Mags' War, Part 6
by thankyoufinnick
Summary: Refugees from Panem, Annie and Cashmere start to build their new lives from scratch: getting therapy, looking for jobs, going to school, buying a house.
1. Chapter 1

[A/N]: This is a very domestic modern AU in everything but name. Though it's technically in the same world as canon, it's set in a country that coincidentally just *happens* to resemble the 1990s America I grew up in. If that's not your cup of tea, part 6 can safely be skipped (the only part that can), and part 7 resumes the fight in Panem with Finnick and Johanna.

But if you love Annie and Cashmere, and all you ever wanted was to see them get therapy and a happily ever after, THIS STORY IS FOR YOU.

* * *

"Name?" The efficient, heavily accented voice comes impersonally from across the other side of the counter.

She swallows. "Annie Cresta." At least the questions are simple enough that she's not having trouble understanding them so far. Not like yesterday.

The immigrations official writes that down, checking the spelling as she goes.

"Date of birth?"

"Three nones December. Oh, and I was born in the Fifty-Third Year of Peace."

The official looks up in confusion, her flow broken. "Do you have a different calendar in Panem?"

"Oh, I guess you wouldn't count from the reforms after the first revolution." Annie feels silly. Ayre is a different country with a different history. "It's Seventy-Seven there now. The new year starts in the fall, on Reaping Day."

The official shakes her head. "Tell me how old you are in years, months, and days, and I'll count backward."

It's hard to think under pressure, when your whole future is riding on being accepted in this new country. Hanging onto Cashmere's hand, she closes her eyes and does the math as fast as she can. "Twenty-three years, and eight months, and...I don't know, I've been traveling and hiding! I've lost track of the days." Annie starts to panic. She didn't know it would be important to keep track of anything as trivial as that.

But the official is calmly counting on her fingers and writing. "Just tell me how many days after the first of December, and I'll put that down."

"Days _after_ the first? Well, it's three days before the none-"

"The ninth? So I'll put six. Done." The questions continue, and Annie breathes. She dodged that bullet somehow. She's not entirely sure it's right, but if this woman doesn't seem too concerned about having it perfect, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe as part of her new life she can have a new birthday.

Then it's Cashmere's turn. "Name?"

"Cashmere." She has to spell it, and Annie can feel the flicker of Cashmere's fingers in her palm as she counts. "And I'm thirty-six-"

"Before that," the official interrupts, "I'll need your last name."

"Last name?" Cashmere looks back and forth between the counter and Annie.

"I'm sorry, was 'Cashmere' your first name or last? I need to put down one of each."

"My only name." Now Cashmere is distressed. "We only have one in my district. There are rules."

Annie, who was Annie C in school to distinguish her from the other Annie in her class, had been surprised by this too. But she didn't expect it to be a problem when they showed up in another country. If it's only their their first full day here, and it's already this hard, she doesn't know how they're ever going to make it.

"I can't enter the country unless I have two names?"

"Cresta," Annie blurts out. "Her last name is Cresta."

She holds her breath, but the official writes it down obligingly. While the questions and answers fly back and forth, Annie leans forward a little against the counter and strains at the upside down form.

Right there, in black and white, it says _Cashmere Cresta_. Annie starts to smile.

* * *

Later, after being escorted to their new living facilities, Annie and Cashmere lie on their assigned bed and hug each other tight, shaking. It's just one wall honeycombed with niches, each containing a bed with a ladder beside it and a couple feet of space above it, barely enough room to sit up, but it's the first time they've been able to sleep inside their new country. Last night, they were technically on the soil of Ayre, but still awaiting official admittance.

"I wasn't expecting the questions to be so hard!" Annie says, laughing a little now that it's over.

"I didn't think they were going to let us in."

Annie shudders and tries not to let her imagination dwell on thoughts of being refused and forced to go back to Panem, or try to find yet another country without even the glimmer of knowledge they have about this one. They're here, and she has to focus on the future.

When they've rested and gotten the shakes out of their systems, Annie has to gear herself up for yet another encounter with yet another stranger.

Following the directions they got, and deciphering the signs, they make it down to the information desk.

"Welcome to Ayre," the woman working it says, with a bright smile. "Your first time here?"

Annie nods. Then she tugs on Cashmere's hand and urges her forward. Having her hovering over her shoulder is like signing up for tesserae at the Justice Building, with her aunt explaining that yes, they really did want that many. Twelve-year-old Annie just nodded her consent mutely, aware that she'd been taking food out of her family's mouths all those years.

"How can I help you?"

Annie slides a piece of paper across the desk. "I have the contact info of someone who lives here. We're hoping he'll let us stay with him while we work things out."

The woman looks at them in consternation. "Oh, my, you don't have a place to stay already arranged? You know the beds here are only for one night, right?"

Annie's heart sinks.

"Yes, they're only for resting a few hours before switching to local transportation. After tonight, you'll need to pay for a room. Some houses, especially outside the city, rent rooms quite cheaply," she says encouragingly.

"We don't have any money," Annie whispers. _It's okay_ , she tries to tell herself, _living on the streets is better than the arena._ She doesn't want to break the law on her first night in the country, but they're good at hiding, and they can find food.

But it's so much like the arena that her vision greys and her ears buzz, and she comes back to herself to realize she missed something. She concentrates and the woman repeats herself, slowly and clearly.

"How did you end up here? Where are you from?"

So Annie tells their story, getting free passage on an empty ship from District Thirteen back to its home port in Ayre, from which it had carried humanitarian aid to Panem. The crew was able to enter straightaway, but she and Cashmere had no identification, so they got separated and escorted into a detention area. After a lot of explaining and Annie reliving her time in the arena, out loud for once, giving all the details and showing the various proofs they'd picked up in Thirteen, they got processed as refugees.

Now they're here, sleep-deprived and emotionally exhausted, struggling to understand the language, with Annie still terrified of being captured and killed, and Cashmere increasingly convinced by the minute that she's too stupid to navigate this world. Somehow, they have to find a roof and a way of earning some money. In a way, it was easier traveling cross-country, because even if they were hungry, hunted and cold, Annie was used to it, and it was Cashmere's comfort zone.

"Oh, my. Well, why don't we try calling him, and if he agrees to pick you up, then everything's solved."

The woman slides a phone across the desk toward them, and waits expectantly. Annie stares at it, knowing how Cashmere feels. It looks like a phone, but the numbers are arranged differently, and she doesn't see buttons. Tentatively, she puts her index finger in one of the holes over a number and presses, but nothing happens.

She glances up at Cashmere, who shakes her head minutely.

"Oh, here, I'll help." The woman half turns the phone toward herself and efficiently turns the dial.

While it rings, Cashmere takes half a step closer to Annie, so that her leg is pressed against Annie's. Annie silently thanks her for the support.

The man she's looking for doesn't answer, but finally someone does, and Annie's able to leave a message, with some assistance from the information desk on the address and instructions for getting there.

Then she turns back to the woman at the desk, with a _What now?_ look. "They said the earliest he could come would be tomorrow."

The woman frowns. "Let me talk to my boss, see about letting you stay an extra night. It's not every day we get refugees, and we're not exactly overcrowded."

She talks on the phone, then says, "It'll be a while, my boss isn't in charge of lodging either. Why don't you have a seat over there? There's a vending machine—no money? None at all, or just-"

Annie shakes her head. "No money." They have some food in their bags, but it looks like it may have to last longer than expected.

The woman purses her lips, like this could have been better organized, then stands up and fetches them each a bag of nuts from down the hall, paid for out of her own pocket. Annie accepts hers, blinking back tears. "Thank you."

"You just wait here, and we'll see what we can do."

Sitting on a padded bench by the wall, Annie and Cashmere wait in silence. Annie eats a couple of nuts to show her gratitude, but hoards the rest for later.

Eventually, some more officials come to talk to them. Annie explains the situation yet again. "We really are trying to find a place, we're not trying to cheat anyone out of anything, we just didn't know we wouldn't have more of a grace period than one night."

"And you couldn't have made better plans before you came here?"

Annie pulls out the wrinkled list she's shown so many times in the past two days that she's memorized it despite hating to look at it. "That's my name. That's her name. Those are the prices on our heads. They want to torture us if they can take us alive, kill us if not."

"They—your government?"

"Panem," Annie says. "The Capitol."

"Hmph." The uniformed woman looming over them looks at the man standing next to her. "I haven't heard anything good about Panem, that's for sure."

"A fair point," the man says, "but how do we know they're really who they claim to be?"

"Well, they're from somewhere. I couldn't fake that accent and broken speech."

"I don't know a Panem accent, do you?"

She shrugs. "No, but if that is where they're from, they wouldn't know how things work here any more than we know what they sound like, so that much holds together. And if they made it to this side of the gates, they must have been questioned."

Annie and Cashmere nod emphatically, still worn out from all the questioning.

"What ship did you say you came in on?"

"The _Green Stars_ ," Annie answers.

A lot of discussion later, and after outside confirmation that the _Green Stars_ did in fact arrive yesterday from Panem, Annie and Cashmere are granted an exception. "As long as there's an empty bunk, you'll be permitted to stay while you make other arrangements, contingent on your good behavior."

"Thank you, thank you!" Annie could kiss them.

"We'll keep it very clean and be very quiet and leave as soon as we possibly can," Cashmere promises earnestly.

One of the men half smiles. "Good luck."

* * *

Two days later, they find themselves stepping out of a car and into an imposing building with a white marble facade. Their first excursion into the port city leaves Annie short of breath, reliving the Capitol, but she clings to Cashmere's hand in the elevator, telling herself that she just has to hold together long enough to meet Finnick's diplomatic contact and get him to help them.

At least he was kind enough to send a car for them when he learned they had no way of taking public transit, and he agreed to meet them in person.

His office gleams with leather and colored marble, and he rises from his massive mahogany desk to shake their hands.

"Well! Pleased to meet you. I'm Ambassador Frey. You're fortunate I was in Ayre this week. I spend a lot of time in Panem these days."

"District Thirteen?" Annie asks politely, automatically, while trying to pin down what's different about him. Then she realizes she's having an easier time understanding him than she has anyone here so far.

After shaking hands, he gestures at them to sit down opposite his desk. Annie and Cashmere automatically position themselves so that Cashmere's partly between her and the ambassador. Having a bodyguard is one of those little things that keeps Annie functioning through the fear.

Cashmere gives her best, eager-to-please smile, and Annie, who normally tries to reassure her that she doesn't have to appease everyone around her, says nothing, because so much is riding on this man's goodwill.

A flicker in the ambassador's eyes shows that he's not immune to the sex appeal of even a bedraggled Cashmere, and Annie's simultaneously grateful because maybe it will make this easier, and stressed because what if he wants more than a smile? Should she try to protect Cashmere at the possible cost of their position here? Finnick bought her safety all those years with his compliance, and the moment she learned that if he put one foot wrong, she'd no longer be allowed to skip Hunger Games appearances, the guilt consumed her and never really left.

Then she realizes he's talking, and zones in again.

"-communication before the war, and after the war, we started having in-person contact. You understand we can't directly get involved in combat, but we do recognize that your situation is, shall we say, unenviable."

"I met some of your colleagues in Thirteen," Cashmere tells him, still smiling. She's in full interview mode. "Finnick and I welcomed the first delegation to Panem in almost a hundred years."

"A historic moment," Ambassador Frey says admiringly. "I'm glad we can welcome you here now. I met Finnick sometime later. Quite a personable young man. I don't believe you were there on that occasion?" he asks Cashmere. "I'm sure I'd remember meeting you."

"I'd remember meeting _you_." Cashmere sounds for all the world sincere as she charms him. "I was regrettably detained in Panem at the time. This is my first time in Ayre. Finnick had nothing but good to say about Ayre, though, and we're hoping to make our home here now. He spoke well of you and said you might be able to help us with the transition."

Annie watches in amazement as Cashmere flawlessly adapts her script to the circumstances. "Regrettably detained" is a memorized phrase if there ever was one, but it flowed right off her lips like it was nothing.

"Yes, I do believe I remember him mentioning that his fiancée might want to come to Ayre." The ambassador smiles at Cashmere. "If it's not too personal a question, did you find time to get married in the hubbub of the war? You seem to have been very busy in the service of your country."

Cashmere's poise hasn't faltered yet, but she closes her mouth on her next syllable as soon as Annie speaks up.

"Um, that would be me." Cashmere and the ambassador both glance at Annie, and she could kick herself, because Cashmere could have handled this more gracefully, and maybe it's not even important to correct his misconception, as long as they get what they need.

It's only that as he talked, Annie could see the picture he was painting: two accomplished, talented diplomats working in tandem, and herself fading ever more into the background.

With barely a pause, he dips his head warmly at her. "Then I'll direct my question to you." The words are right, but she can read his surprise under the practiced diplomacy.

Annie flushes, because she knows she's no prize, but then her anger flares. Finnick was a prize, for many years, an object to be bought and sold and earned, and so was Cashmere. This man doesn't know how lucky she is, and not in the way he thinks.

"We did get married, yes." She tries to keep her voice level. "Cashmere came here with me. There's a price on her head too."

"You want to find a place together, then? Or separately?"

"Together," they answer in unison.

"Well, well. I'll see what I can do. I'm not in a position to house you myself, but one of my former neighbors hosts—or at least used to host—visiting students from other countries. It would be my pleasure to give her a ring. You're staying at the Border Clearance Center?"

Annie learns from history and lets Cashmere field this question.

"They've been so wonderfully accommodating of us without any notice." Cashmere beams. "They're letting us stay there until they get another request for the bed, but of course we don't know how long that will be."

She favors him with such a brave, grateful, and appealing look that he melts and Annie's left pursing her lips in a silent whistle. _He may be a professional, but so is she._

"Is that so? I'll be sure to have my secretary give them a call and put in a good word for you."

"Oh, everyone has been so kind," Cashmere says with a hint of breathlessness, like she can hardly believe her good fortune. "I hope we haven't been too much trouble."

 _I need to get out of here before he realizes she's turning me on too!_ It's only a split-second thought, but it's a split-second break from the fear, and Annie represses a giggle.

He waves his hand dismissively. "It's nothing. I have no authority over them, of course, but I flatter myself I have a little influence. You'll have to forgive us for not being more prepared, in the mean time. We haven't had contact with a country in your situation for generations, and we simply don't have a system for processing refugees.

"I suspect that will change in the near future, but for the time being, the Border people spend more of their time looking for pests and blight. They keep a handful of beds and showers as a courtesy to travelers who might be having their shipments checked, or who've been traveling a long way. But we'll do what we can."

"Oh, no," croons Cashmere, "it's you who must forgive us. We were fleeing for our lives."

Annie thinks that if she had known it would be this complicated, she would have stayed in Thirteen and secured a place before arriving unannounced at a port of entry and placing herself at the mercy of a government that has no way of knowing what her intentions might be and has historically been reluctant to form too many outside ties. But at the time, getting as far away from Panem as quickly as possible was her only imperative.

"Well, we're delighted to have you and hope you have a much better experience here than in Panem. It's been a pleasure meeting you."

As soon as they're alone together again, Annie throws her arms around Cashmere and sobs her relief and fear out. "You were great, I couldn't have done that. You asked him to help extend our stay without even asking."

"Oh, Annie." Cashmere pats her hair on her back. "I don't know how anything works here, how to make a phone call or find my way around or anything. But getting someone in power to want to be nice to you without them realizing it, that's the same everywhere."

"You were perfect. I'm letting you do all the talking from now on."

Immediately, Cashmere stiffens. "But—I'm only good at the one thing-"

"Okay, I'm joking. You don't have to. But I got used to doing all the talking in District Three, and I'd forgotten how good you are in your comfort zone."

"I just want to help. What do you think this neighbor is like?"

"I don't know." Annie sighs and sinks down on the bed, her legs unable to support her weight any more. Her back aches with the clenching of the last few days. "We only need a place to stay while we find out what kind of work we can do here. If they don't want to kill us or hand us over to President Snow, I'm willing to live with pretty much anyone."

* * *

To their surprise, not one former neighbor but two show up at Border Clearance. Both are middle-aged women, one professionally coiffed, and the other with frazzled grey curls and a baggy sweater.

Annie doesn't really have anywhere of her own to receive them, so they meet in the hall by the information desk. She hates, hates, hates sitting here in a public space deciding her and Cashmere's future, but at least she's gotten used to this hallway, even learned the names of several employees working the desk.

"Nessa Rearden." She has a firm handshake and a perfect manicure.

"Raych Kells." She has inkstains on her fingertips. "Ryan Frey and I used to walk our dogs in the same park, believe it or not. I knew him when. And that dog was a terror, let me tell you. Tiny but fearless."

So far, they don't seem scary, but Annie's reserving judgment. She's heard President Snow can come across as quite harmless if he wants to. She lets Cashmere sit in front of her on the bench.

"Raych, focus," Nessa says with a small smile and a nudge. "So you're Cashmere and you're Annie? Which of you is looking for a host family? Annie, right?"

Cashmere sits frozen, not saying anything, so Annie answers. "Both of us?"

The two women glance at each other, an obvious _Oh, dear,_ hanging in the air.

Annie knows that things have gone well for them so far, and eventually they may have to compromise. "But if you live close to each other and you can each only take one, then I guess we can make that work..."

But they're shaking their heads. "No, we live together," says Raych.

"We both came because taking in a new guest is a big decision."

"We host students every year, but only one at a time."

"I see." Annie looks at the floor by Cashmere's feet. "Well, if there's not enough food to go around, then I guess that's that. I don't want anyone to go hungry for me ever again." Bad enough that Cashmere does, but Cashmere's made it clear she's not going anywhere.

"Oh, food's not that expensive," Nessa says, pity coming over her face.

"It's just that the apartment's so small," Raych explains. "There's only the one extra bed, and it's only meant for one person."

"One bed is great!" Cashmere exclaims.

Annie nods enthusiastically. "The layover bed in this building is the only bed we've had for years, and it's not even ours. Until this week, we were sleeping on the floor in a closet, or in caves, or in the cargo hold of a ship."

"If you have a closet," Cashmere offers, "we can sleep there."

The two women are looking at each other like they can't believe their ears.

The pitiful approach seems to be working, so Annie dares, "Just please don't tell the Panem government where we're hiding."

"Oh, no," Raych sighs helplessly.

"Well, we weren't really expecting this, you know. We've never hosted two students—the placement agency wouldn't have authorized it for an apartment our size even if we'd wanted to—and Raych works from home, and we'd need at least a night to talk it over."

Nessa glances at her companion, who nods in confirmation. Annie swallows her disappointment and tries to smile gratefully, telling herself that a night to think it over at least isn't a door slammed in their face.

"We weren't even planning to host any refugees," Raych tells them. "We have a student lined up for this year—but then we heard your story and thought of course, we can cancel and the student can find somewhere else to go."

"The ambassador told us about the videos of the Hunger Games he'd seen." Nessa looks at Annie. "You poor girl."

"You too?" Raych asks Cashmere.

Cashmere nods, but she hesitates, and Annie realizes that Finnick wouldn't have shown any tapes of Cashmere's bloody finale. Probably these people will be as scared of Careers as she used to be.

So she thinks fast. "The Hunger Games were the worst thing that ever happened to me," Annie says with quiet dignity. "They weren't the worst thing that happened to her."

Nessa groans, and Raych tightens her lips. "We'll get back to you tomorrow, then. I know you won't want to be in limbo any longer than absolutely necessary."

"And if we can't," Nessa promises, "we'll contact the student placement agency and see if they know of anyone who can."

* * *

"What are we going to do if they don't take us in?" Cashmere whispers. They're lying side by side in bed, and Annie's drying her eyes and trying to stop shaking. She makes it through each day with Cashmere's help, and then every night is like this.

Annie shakes her head. She doesn't want to make plans to hide on the streets in a place that's surely bugged.

"We'll stick together," she promises.

"I can sell my body-" Cashmere begins, but Annie cuts her off.

"We're going to try everything we can before it comes to that. We've gotten a lot of information out of the help desk the last few days. We have other leads."

"Okay. But it's very easy in District One. The academy gives a lot of kids training even if they don't make it to the end, and a lot of them end up trading sex for what they need. No one ever said it was bad."

"It's not bad. I just don't want you to have to go through that again when it was so hard on you." Annie thinks there's got to be a way to do it like any other job, but what Cashmere and Finnick were put through wasn't it, and they're both still carrying scars. "Besides, I don't think I could let you out of my sight for that long. I'm sorry, but I'm still scared to death here, and if I have to be alone, I don't know if I can do it."

Cashmere hugs her. "I'm not going anywhere. Just tell me what you want me to do, then. I don't mind if it comes to that. I'm good at it. Maybe I can work at night while you're sleeping, and come back before you wake up."

"But I don't know how that'll work—what about curfew?"

"Curfew?"

"Where you have to be inside by eleven pm and you're not allowed to leave until the next morning? You didn't have that in One?"

"No," Cashmere says. "Or in the Capitol. As long as you followed the rules, you could move around any time you wanted to."

"Really?" Maybe it's okay here too. Maybe if she asks at the information desk about a curfew, she can find out what's legal without letting on that she might have to find somewhere to hide. She keeps forgetting it's different here. "But they still might take us in. And if not, they said they'd try to help find someone who will. It feels like we're not getting anywhere—we're still in this same building where they interrogated us on the first day—but everyone's been really helpful, considering we fell into their laps like this."

"You should tell Raych and Nessa you're a student—of physics and engineering," Cashmere suggests admiringly.

"Cashmere!" Annie giggles and elbows her, but it makes her feel better. If the smartest minds in District Three were able to find a use for her, she'll find something here.

* * *

The following day, they're not quite sure when the women are going to return, so as soon as they've had breakfast, trying not to see how low their supplies are getting, Annie and Cashmere go and wait on the bench in the corridor. They have nothing else to do, and Annie knows that she, for one, would go crazy waiting for hours in bed, wanting every moment to get up and check, worrying that they've missed their names being paged over the intercom.

At long last, in the early afternoon, Raych and Nessa arrive. They're smiling, but that could mean anything—could be an attempt to let them down gently.

Annie starts shaking, and folds her arms over her queasy stomach. She returns the smile, knowing with embarrassment that it's probably obvious to everyone how forced the smile is, but she can't get up and shake their hands.

Blessedly, Nessa comes straight to the point and doesn't keep them in suspense.

"Oh, girls. We couldn't say no."

Annie can't take it in right away. At first she hadn't imagined finding a place would be this difficult—her mind skimmed conveniently from "Finnick has a contact" to "everything will be fine," without lingering on the details between—but once day after day passed with phone calls, visits, and persuasive speeches, she got into the habit of thinking it would never end.

Cashmere thanks them politely, if a little numbly, but Annie starts crying, and the more she tries to stop, the harder she cries.

"You can come home in the car with us as soon as you like," Raych says, "today if you want." She looks uncomfortable but understanding.

"Unless you have any other details that need settling," Nessa adds, "or a better lead for a place to stay-"

"No! No!" Annie and Cashmere get immediately to their feet. "Thank you so much, I'm sure it will be wonderful." They look around, ready to go.

Nessa is nonplussed. "Surely you at least have questions for us first? We've been vetted by the international student placement agency, so we're perfectly safe to live with. We have the paperwork with us if you want to see-"

Raych looks from Cashmere to Annie and says wisely, "Given their history, this is probably the least risky thing they've had to do recently. Let's get them home, fed, and rested. There'll be time to get to know each other later."

"I only have one question," Annie says. "You're absolutely sure there's enough food for all four of us? Because I've been there before, and I couldn't stand it again."

"There's enough," Nessa promises gently. "I have the feeling that food is harder to come by where you come from. It'll be fine. Let's go home."

Annie's still worried—if not food, then she's surely taking _something_ important away from them—but she feels a bit better when they guide her and Cashmere to a car, and they're casual about it. She associates cars with the Capitol, and while the memory makes her a bit nauseated, she tries translating it into terms familiar to her. Maybe this is like owning your own boat.

Raych invites them to brush the clutter off the backseat and make themselves at home. "It'll be about an hour and a half, but everything's waiting for you once we get there."

Cashmere talks cheerfully to them through the whole ride, and Annie leans her head against Cashmere's side and tries not to be sick. _It's not the Capitol. They're not taking you anywhere you don't want to go. Close your eyes and think of it as a boat. They have their own boat and lots of food and everything's going to be okay. And if anything goes wrong, Cashmere will handle it._

Annie can barely keep track of what everyone else is talking about, but a few minutes in, she opens her eyes and looks at Cashmere in surprise. _I thought you couldn't do small talk. I thought you had no experience with normal social interactions._

Then she realizes that Cashmere is just encouraging them and making appreciative sounds at everything they say. She's not letting them get to know her, just making sure they're pleased with her. This is every lesson in socialization she ever had. Every party, every politician, every lover.

Annie wants to rescue her, turn this into a real conversation, but she can't. She's got her eyes squeezed shut, her ears blocked, and is desperately imagining herself on a boat. Later. She'll get to know them later.

It gets her through the endless ride, until at last the car comes to a halt and the vibrations stop.

"Home sweet home," Nessa announces, and pulls out the keys. Annie reluctantly opens her eyes.

Home turns out to be a large apartment building with many units. Annie nods to herself: this is what she grew up in. One room, a stove, and a shared toilet down the hall.

But an elevator takes them to the third floor, and that's already different. Like the car, it makes her feel better and worse.

Cashmere's got her arm locked around Annie's shoulders, and Annie's grateful for many reasons, but not least because it means she can close her eyes when it becomes too much.

"I'm sorry," Raych says, glancing at her as they emerge, "do you not like elevators? I should have asked."

Annie just shakes her head. She knows she should be more polite, but her ability to cope now that they're out of immediate danger is shutting down, even past fears that the women will decide they don't like these ungrateful refugees and don't want to take them in after all. She should have been nicer to Mags at first too—but she couldn't.

Cashmere's on autopilot, smiling and complimenting everything smoothly as Raych unlocks the door and lets them in, but Annie stops short.

Furniture, everywhere. Shelves, rugs, books. Curtains, lamps, knickknacks. She looks around, barely able to process the luxury.

Their hosts start guiding them through it, and somewhat stunned, Annie follows. Rooms and more rooms! A living room, a kitchen big enough to hold a table and chairs, a closed door—Annie misses in her shock what it leads to—a bedroom, another bedroom! And a bathroom. Maybe it's not as big as her house in the Victors' Village, but it's every bit as luxurious.

"This is your bedroom," Raych says, stepping into the last room. "Over there is the bathroom you'll use, along with any guests who come over. Ness and I have our own bathroom adjoining our bedroom."

"We did the best we could yesterday," Nessa apologizes, "but we weren't expecting to host anyone for another month. We'll pick up a few more items while we're out today and tomorrow."

"I don't think there's quite enough room for a larger bed," Raych frets. "Unless maybe we moved the desk-"

"But then it would block the closet," Nessa points out.

"It's wonderful," Cashmere says, "very lovely. I'm sure we'll be very comfortable here."

So is Annie. Not only is there a bed, it's a proper bed with a mattress and two white pillows and a quilted bedspread. She's so glad it's a quilt; it reminds her of the ones Finnick brought her, long ago. She was starting to forget beds existed.

There's a desk made of light wood, and a single matching wooden chair.

"You can put your clothes in here-" Raych gestures toward the closet, "and your belongings here." More light wooden shelves above the head of the bed and above the desk. "The window looks out onto the courtyard. Not the best view, but at least there's plenty of green."

"Sweetie," Nessa points out, repressing a smile, "I don't think they moved here for the view."

"I know, I'm being silly. What about clothes? Do you have clothes, do you need more, what's your situation?"

"We have one change each in our bags," Annie tells them. "We have a needle and scissors and thread too, but if you have any extra buttons..." They've lost a few along the way.

"Oh, dear, no," Nessa says, "we can buy you a new set or two of clothes. You've been wearing those for how long?" She seems to consider that a rhetorical question, for she continues without a pause, "Now that you're here, we can take you out and get you a new wardrobe. Nothing fancy, but clean and decent."

New clothes? Annie's about to panic, but she remembers Mags bringing her what she needed. Some people really do have more money than they need, and for a few brief years, Annie was even one of them.

"Let the girls get some sleep first," Raych suggests. "We can go shopping tomorrow. The kitchen is yours to raid any time you like, and at least one of us will be around for the rest of the day if you have any questions."

"And house rules," Nessa begins, "...no, those can wait too. Get some rest."

Cashmere's instantly alert. "No, I want to know the rules."

Annie nods.

"Oh, not much, really. We're a couple of fuddy-duddy old ladies, so we like it quiet after ten. Let us know before you invite guests over."

"If my study door is closed," Raych says, "don't knock unless it's really important. Otherwise, come on in."

"No alcohol. We usually have dinner in the kitchen around six, and you're welcome to join us, or not. The kitchen's always open, but do please clean up after yourselves in the common areas. Your room is your own business."

"And that's enough for now," Raych decides. "We can show you where to do your laundry and how to operate the coffeemaker later. Settle in at your own pace and let us know if you run into anything where you need to know how it works. You look exhausted."

Annie's leaning against the wall, and even under Cashmere's mask the weariness is evident.

Another round of thank yous and reassurances, and they're finally, finally alone.

Annie sits down on the bed, so overcome she doesn't even know where to start.

Cashmere sits beside her. "I guess we're safe now?"

"I guess," Annie says. It doesn't feel real yet.

Slowly, she takes off her fur coat. She's aware everything she owns looks and smells like it's been traveled in for months, despite her best efforts to wash them in creeks and sinks, but the coat is the one thing she's refused to let out of her reach since that fateful day in District Three. It's a poor substitute for Finnick's arms around her and a chest to rest her head on, secure in the knowledge that he's taking care of everything, but it's all she's got of District Four now. Cashmere has nothing from One.

Her body feels too heavy to move, so she lets Cashmere carry the coat to the closet, while she stares at the quilt. Red, grey, and white stars and hexagons. It's a good room. Only a bit bigger than their hiding place in Three, but a lot nicer. If she ever felt safe anywhere, she thinks she could feel safe here.

"Is that all?" Cashmere looks at Annie, hesitant, awaiting further instruction.

Annie shrugs. She isn't quite ready to go to sleep either. It's hard to relax in a new place, and a permanent new place instead of a temporary one presents all new challenges, like keeping their hosts happy, learning how things work here, and getting on their feet.

"What's it like outside the window?" she asks.

Cashmere obligingly crawls over the bed and kneels on it to see out. "You can see the other side of the apartment complex. It's a big, four-sided brick building with a green lawn and some hedges in the middle. There are lampposts. I can see two people walking across the courtyard."

"And we're on the third floor?" Annie would prefer being at ground level, so she can escape if she needs to, after what happened that night Rudder had to carry her out, and Grace's place was raided.

Cashmere opens the window and sticks her head out for a few seconds. "I can see a fire escape down the hall. To our right, about...six windows down."

"And if we have to evacuate in the middle of the night..."

"I can find the way," Cashmere says confidently.

"Okay." Annie pulls the bedspread down and slides under it. She feels bad for sleeping in her dirty clothes in this nice clean bed, but tomorrow she's going to learn how to do laundry.

Cashmere joins her. It's a bit of a squeeze, but Annie turns on her side with her back to the wall, and Cashmere presses close, and this is as comfortable as Annie's been since her house was burned down.


	2. Chapter 2

Annie wakes up. It's dark. Her stomach growls. Cashmere is silent beside her. Her breathing is so quiet that Annie thinks she must be awake, but as always, she waits for Annie to make the first move.

Annie takes her hand.

"Are you hungry too?" Cashmere whispers.

"A little," Annie answers. She hesitates. If it were just her, she'd take out the bag she brought and eat the little food she has left. But she's going to have to start using the kitchen eventually, and it's not fair to Cashmere to keep her tied to this room. It's late. Surely they'll have the place to themselves.

Every sound in the hall echoes in Annie's ears. As quietly as she can, she tiptoes as quietly behind Cashmere into the kitchen. With her hand hovering over a light switch, Cashmere looks at her, and Annie hesitates. She'd rather keep it off, but in the dark she might bang into something that would wake everyone up. Better turn it on.

In the cupboards and fridge is a stash of food the likes of which Annie's only ever seen in the Victors' Village. "They really do have a lot," she breathes.

Maybe it has to last, but this much food all at once is something Annie's family could only have dreamed of.

Still trying to be quiet, Annie looks for foods that don't need to be prepared. Bread, cheese, tomatoes, milk. Everything's stored differently from what she's used to, but it's not long before Cashmere and she are sitting at the table, gulping down food as quietly as possible.

Even so, they hear a door opening only a few minutes later. One of the women comes into the kitchen. Raych, Annie remembers. "Finding everything all right?"

"We're so sorry," Cashmere exclaims, "we didn't mean to wake you!"

Annie swallows her mouthful fast while nodding urgently.

"You did no such thing," Raych says comfortably. She grabs a bag from the cupboard and pulls up a chair. "I was in my study working late. Nessa's gone to bed, but I'm a night owl. Pretzels?" She holds the bag open toward them.

Annie instinctively shakes her head, and just as instinctively, Cashmere accepts with a grateful smile. Then Annie sees Cashmere glance at her, wondering if she made the wrong move. Annie gives her a reassuring look, all the while wishing she'd stayed in their room after all.

But no, Cashmere's here. And look at how things worked out in Three. Finnick would say to give Raych a chance and get to know her.

Annie makes herself smile. "You were working?"

"I'm an editor," Raych explains. When they both look at her blankly, she elaborates, "Authors write books, and I give the books a second pair of eyes to see what can be improved, before they make it out to readers. I get to do some of my work at home, and the rest in the office. That means I'll be the one you want to come to if you need someone to show you around or give you a ride somewhere."

"And we really appreciate that!" Cashmere says.

Annie seconds that. "And Nessa?" she asks. "What does she do?"

"She's an agronomist." Raych laughs. "No, I don't understand what she does either. It seems very sciency."

"Annie's good at science," Cashmere offers brightly, and Annie blushes.

"Oh, really?" Raych says, curious.

"Yes and no," Annie tells her. "I've only been studying for...not even two years. So I don't know a lot yet. But I was really enjoying learning, oh, electrical engineering, physics, chemistry...and some very smart engineers said I was good for a beginner."

"That's fantastic! Nessa's more into biology, but I'm sure she'll be happy to hear about your interests. What about you?" Raych turns to Cashmere.

Annie can see Cashmere struggling to translate her life story to a world without Hunger Games, so she jumps in with, "Cashmere and I met because she agreed to be my bodyguard. Now we're family." She puts her hand proudly over Cashmere's. "But that's how we started out. She fought in the war, and she keeps me safe."

"Well, it's a good thing you're family now," Raych says warmly, "because you're very safe here and you won't need a bodyguard."

"That's what I'm hoping," Annie says. She doesn't tell Raych that it doesn't matter how safe she is, having a bodyguard is the only thing that keeps her panic at bay.

"But you're not married?" Raych continues, looking back and forth between them. "I'd heard something about a husband..."

"I'm married," Annie explains. "My husband stayed behind to fight. He doesn't really have a choice, in his mind—it's been his whole life." As always, Annie's torn between supporting and worrying about him, between what's good for Panem and what's good for Finnick. "I wish I could, but I can't. Cashmere's somewhere in the middle—she could fight, but she can also stay with me."

"Then I hope he makes it out safely."

Now Raych looks questioningly at Cashmere. Cashmere just holds on to Annie's hand. "Annie's my only family left."

"And you aren't married, I take it," Annie continues politely.

"No, we're married," Raych correct, looking a little surprised. She smiles happily. "Nessa and I've been married fourteen years now."

But then, where are their hu—The answer dawns on Annie and Cashmere at the same time. "To...each _other_?"

"Of course. What, you two couldn't have gotten married in Panem?" Raych asks, flabbergasted. "Why on earth not?"

Annie turns to Cashmere, but she looks just as baffled as Annie feels. This is not something Annie's ever wondered about. "I don't know. What would the point be? You can live together anyway, you can have sex, you couldn't have babies even if you got married-"

"You could adopt!"

"Yes..." Annie's still trying to apply this new idea of marriage to Cashmere to her life in Panem. "It happens. But you don't get the stipend for adopting, so what does it matter who you're married to? Better to get married to someone and get the stipend when the baby's born."

Raych blinks. "But, but...what if the child's in the hospital? Who makes their medical decisions?"

Annie just stares at her.

"You had hospitals, right?"

Annie shakes her head.

"Oh. Schools?"

Annie nods. "Oh, you mean who gets punished if the kid doesn't show up at school? I don't know anyone who had that happen, but I don't think you had to be married to get punished."

Raych is clearly having difficulty processing all this. Suddenly remembering, Annie turns to Cashmere. "But that was District Four. I don't know know about other districts, or the Capitol. We were never allowed to travel, except—and I never wanted to go to the Capitol."

Cashmere shakes her head. "It was the same in District One and the Capitol. Lots of sex, but only men and women could get married. That's why most of my sponsors were men. Oh, and in the Capitol, you got stipends every year for every kid, not just when they were born. They had trouble with rich families not wanting to split up their inheritances. And I heard that there were fertility problems after the nuclear war, when the laws were getting made."

"Well, we had the same problem!" Raych exclaims, finally regaining her powers of speech. "But that made it really obvious that getting married and having kids had nothing to do with each other. Lots of married couples couldn't have kids even if they had the right parts. And lots of people were popping out kids without a marriage license. Anyway, I'm just glad that Nessa and I can be married."

"And we're glad for you," Cashmere assures her, and Annie nods, although she's still not entirely sure why it's such a good thing.

Except, it would have been nice if she could have married both Finnick and Cashmere. Then Cashmere wouldn't have to feel like the outsider.

Annie's going to have to think about this. Meanwhile, it's starting to look like Finnick was right. This place is different from anything she could have imagined.

* * *

In the morning, Annie begs off the clothes shopping expedition with a half-truth about being tired. She is tired. But the world out there is strange and scary.

Cashmere goes with Raych and picks out some clothes for Annie, but she has her own problems. She comes back uncertain and looking for reassurance.

"I'm not used to not knowing how to dress," she tells Annie, when she's got everything spread out on the bed so Annie can look at it. "But everything's so different here. All the dressy clothes were expensive, and nothing looked like what I'm used to at all. And I'm used to knowing who I'm dressing for."

"Oh, Cashmere. You don't have to dress for anyone but yourself here."

Cashmere looks at her like she's speaking a foreign language. She continues, "I decided that the only thing I'm sure of is that I'm your bodyguard. So I got practical clothes: pants, clothes I can move in easily, pajamas instead of a nightgown, that sort of thing.

"I didn't know what to do about makeup, but I didn't get any this time because I wasn't sure what look to aim for. Usually when someone's paying for my makeup and jewelry, it's because they expect to get something out of it. But then I don't know if I'm supposed to look nice anyway..."

Cashmere gives Annie a look pleading for answers that Annie doesn't have. She does her best. "I think you're right, that we shouldn't spend any more of their money than we have to. And you should dress so that you feel comfortable and not worry about using your looks to get results. If we end up with money of our own and you want to dress up, you can."

"But you'll tell me when I should?"

Annie sighs. "We'll figure it out," she says firmly.

Cashmere gives her a stubborn look, and Annie matches it. "I'm not giving you rules. We're in this together."

"Finnick gave me rules."

"I'm not Finnick. I'm not saying he was wrong," she says placatingly, though privately she thinks he took the path of least resistance. "I'm saying that..." Annie hesitates. What is she saying? "I want you to have more confidence in your decisions. I want you to believe in yourself."

"So I'm wrong," Cashmere says flatly. "To want rules."

"That's not what I'm saying either," Annie says. Maybe she should leave it, but she's gone too far. "I didn't save your life, and I'm not the only thing standing between you and captivity. We're a team."

"Okay," Cashmere says, but it's a surrender rather than an agreement.

Annie takes a deep breath. Time. Give it time.

* * *

"The food is delicious," Cashmere says, the first night they all have dinner together. Annie thinks it's a bit bland, but she would never for a minute say so. She nods her enthusiastic agreement. It's food!

"Oh, well, we can't take any credit for that," Nessa says. "We buy it at the store and warm it up."

"I noticed," Annie said, jumping on this opportunity to talk about the food without being rude. "You just put it in the oven and all the ingredients are already there?"

"It would probably be cheaper and taste better if we cooked ourselves," Raych admits, "but we don't really like cooking, and we can afford it, so why not?"

"Is it very different from what you're used to?" Nessa wonders. "We always like hearing about food from our students."

"Oh, we didn't usually even buy food in stores," Annie tells her. "We had outdoor markets. It was much sunnier than this, of course. But fish markets, fruit and vegetable markets, milk and cheese stalls...I guess if you had the money to buy bread instead of making it yourself, the bakery had all sorts of baked goods. And we had lots of restaurants for anyone with the money.

"But if you wanted orange juice, you bought an orange and made it yourself. I don't know where I would have bought orange juice. Victors, of course, were spoiled, and we could get deliveries from families that made things like orange juice and tomato sauce for us. But unless you could afford that, you were on your own."

"Pier said it was like that for him, remember?" Nessa nods to Raych. "He grew up on a farm," she explains to them. "What about you, Cashmere? Is this different from how you're used to food being prepared? I know you two said you were from different parts of Panem."

Cashmere shrinks in on herself and takes a big bite to mask her confusion. Yet another question she doesn't know how to field, and she won't ask for clarification or start explaining why she doesn't have an answer. If she can't give a clear, definitive answer to the literal question, she clams up.

"Had you ever been in a kitchen before this?" Annie guesses. She's not surprised when Cashmere shakes her head, no.

Annie bites her tongue on an impatient _Okay, Cashmere, you're not stupid because everyone else knows how food is prepared and you've never been in a kitchen. Just explain how you got your food, that's all they want to know._ She knows people talk about small, unimportant things as a way of passing the time and getting to know each other. Cashmere comes from a world where every question has one right answer, usually memorized, and could mean the difference between success and failure, even life and death.

So Annie guesses. "In the Capitol, I assume all the food was prepared by servants behind the scenes. I can't imagine they'd let a victor get their hands dirty with something like that. And the academy just gave you healthy food without making you think about where it was coming from?"

Cashmere nods. "They only taught us how to prepare food in the wild. And even then, they were mostly counting on us having sponsors."

"So of course you haven't been in a kitchen. And in the Victors' Village? Did you have someone who lived with you, and made the food? Or came over? Or was it delivered ready made?"

"Deliveries," Cashmere answers, relieved to get specific options. "We had menus, and we'd make a phone call, and it would show up at the door. Even Penny didn't cook, she just had someone bring her the food."

"That makes sense. I used to cook a lot, myself," Annie tells them. "At first Mags lived with me, and she cooked or had food delivered. And I wouldn't stop eating. I must have weighed seventy-five pounds. I don't know what that is in kilos, they told me in Three, but I forgot. Anyway, I was half-starved. And then when Mags moved out, I had nothing to do all day and all I wanted to do was eat, so I had the ingredients delivered and used a recipe book and cooked and cooked."

"You didn't eat as much as Penelope," Cashmere says with a small smile.

"Well, no, not from what you've told me," Annie laughs. "What I did was feed the whole village. I baked and made casseroles and soups and everything I could think of, and they got distributed to everyone, even the victors I didn't know well, Brine, Rudder, and Octavius. And I'd send food home with the kids who brought our deliveries and did our laundry and so on."

"If you like cooking, definitely help yourself to our kitchen," Nessa invites. "Please do treat this as your own home. You're not guests."

"I appreciate that," Annie says hesitantly. "I haven't wanted to because I don't know how much anything costs."

"Not a problem. We've had students who liked to cook before, or just plain didn't like what Raych and I eat and missed the food they were used to. We give you a budget, and as long as you stick to it, you're welcome to make whatever you like. And if you want to make enough to share—hey, Raych and I have to eat too! We're not picky eaters, and we're always happy if our students want to introduce us to new foods."

"But you don't have to," Raych jumps in. "It's not like we can complain if you don't like cooking, after all."

Annie smiles politely, but without deliveries, cooking isn't going to be as easy as it was in the Village. And it doesn't sound like Cashmere's going to have any confidence navigating a store. "Maybe...you do your own shopping?"

"I usually pick up what's on our shopping list once or twice a week when I'm not in the office," Raych says. "Less crowded."

"So maybe you could buy what you think you'd like, and I'll make it? If you have a cookbook, I'm willing to try anything new, or we can go over what ingredients I'm used to beforehand."

"Oh, I'm happy to show you around the store, show you how it works, our currency if you're not familiar with it. You'll get used to it in no time."

"Yes, well..." Annie looks down at her plate, takes a bite. She glances out of the corner of her eye, but Cashmere's not rushing to volunteer to go shopping. She probably will if Annie asks, but not without a silent freakout, and she doesn't deserve that. "I'm not very good about going outside. Not since I won the Hunger Games. I came back with a lot of damage, but that was about the worst."

"Really?"

In Raych's surprise, Annie can feel a familiar conversation looming. She doesn't want to be rude, but the fear and the frustration are too much and she bursts out, "And don't tell me it's safe here! I know that. I knew it wasn't _that_ dangerous there—I was the only victor who couldn't go outside. But they broke me in the arena and that's all there is to it. I'm sorry."

"You came all the way here, though," Raych points out, bemused.

"Because I was more scared to stay there! Because they were going to capture me and torture me and get me to betray everyone with what I knew, and see if they could use me to capture my husband so they could do the same to him. But now I'm here and I just can't bring myself to go outside. And don't tell me it doesn't make sense. I wish I made sense to myself."

Raych and Nessa exchange a long look. "And this all started when you were forced into some kind of arena for children and almost died?"

Annie nods.

"Did you ever get any help?"

She finds herself nodding and shaking her head at the same time. "Some of the other victors tried to help, and they did a little, but no one ever got very far. It wasn't for lack of trying."

"Okay. But professional help, doctors, that sort of thing?"

Annie shudders. "The doctors were one of the scariest parts of the Capitol. Later I got some pills that put me to sleep, and some that made me numb when it got to be too much, and those helped. But I haven't had them in years. Mostly what helps these days is having Cashmere around. But I still can't go to the store like a normal person."

"Well, it sounds like you could use some professional help," Nessa tells her.

"Non-scary professional help," Raych adds.

"I can only imagine what you've been through, but I'm sure we have better resources than what you had back home."

"That's what Finnick said," Annie says, still looking at her plate. "But that has to cost money, right, seeing doctors? Maybe, with Cashmere's help, I'll be able to get a job, and then we'll see if anyone can do anything for me."

"But you can't even go to the store!" Raych objects. "How are you going-"

To her horror, Annie starts crying. She buries her face in her hands, trying to be reasonable and sobbing instead. "I know, I know! I want my life back, I want to be able to do the things I enjoy, I don't want everyone else to have to take care of me. But I don't know how!"

She's so embarrassed that she staggers to her feet, still covering her face, but then somehow Cashmere is standing right next to her. In confusion, Annie finds herself wrapped up in her arms instead of fleeing back to their room.

"I'm sorry!" Raych exclaims, flustered. "I said that badly! I just meant, we should help. Treatment first, and then it'll be easier for you to get a job."

Annie sniffles, trying to get herself under control. "But you're already feeding us and you bought us new clothes and everything," she protests. "And what if it doesn't even work? I'm already afraid of how long it's going to take before I can move out."

"Oh, child, don't worry yourself about that. When we took on refugees, we knew it might take more than one school year before you were fully self-supporting. And if you need medical care, well—"

"With what you've been through," Nessa sniffs, "we're surprised you don't need more. Don't worry about it. We'll look into how much it costs and how often we can afford it, and we'll talk."

Turning around, still with Cashmere's arms around her, Annie wipes her eyes and looks at the two older women with awe. "Really? But I don't know if I can pay you back."

"So get on your feet and go do something nice for someone else when you can afford it," Nessa tells her. Annie gasps at the echo of Mags. "We don't take in students as a financial investment."

"Ditter broke his arm that time," Raych remembers.

"He was being reckless," Nessa says brusquely. "And we still paid to have it set. Would you feel better cooking for us, dear? It'll probably save us at least some money, if that helps you sleep at night. And even if not, it sounds like it'll be delicious. We'll pick up the food."

Annie nods. "I'd love to. I don't know what kind of food you have to cook with, but I'll give it my best shot."

"We do have cookbooks," Nessa starts to say, but Raych interrupts her with a snort.

"You know what to do with a potato?"

A small smile breaks out on Annie's face. "I know twenty things to do with a potato."

"Then that's plenty to be getting started with. And you?" Nessa looks at Cashmere. "Do you need any medical help?"

Cashmere shakes her head hard. "I don't need anything. I can go to the store. I can do the shopping. If you show me how. I can do anything you want."

"Thank you," Annie says. "Thank you all. Now, where's that cookbook?"

* * *

Annie tiptoes out to the living room to slide the book she borrowed back onto the shelves. But it's a fat one, and she's still trying to squeeze it back in when the door to the study opens, and Raych comes out. Annie steps quickly away from the shelves, trying to look like she's just browsing, but Raych pauses and smiles at her. " _The Secret of the Sleeping Tiger_? What did you think of it?"

Caught. Annie stalls for a few seconds with a polite smile. "I wasn't able to finish it," she admits. "The language is still too different. I'm still having to read one sentence at a time."

"Oh, yes, that would make it slow going," Raych says sympathetically. "A mystery's probably not the best place to start either, with the culture gap. Too many things the author will take for granted." A thoughtful frown crosses her face. "You know, what you need is juvenile, maybe young adult, fiction. Not baby books, but something that'll keep your interest while being shorter and less complex. Then you can work your way up to reading anything you want."

Raych's face is alight with the enthusiasm of her plan, and Annie has to throw up her hands and wave them frantically no, no. "No, it's okay, I don't need you to go to any extra trouble for me! You're already giving me and Cashmere a place to live and feeding us, and you promised to pay for my medical expenses, which you don't even normally do for your students! Really, please! Don't worry about me. I have everything I need here."

Annie's smiling intensely, trying to communicate her undying gratitude with her body language as much as her words, but Raych is undaunted.

"But that's the beauty of it! It's no trouble at all, and it won't cost me a bit. I'm an editor, of course I have a subscription at the local library. All I do is pay a little money every month, and I can borrow as many books as I want, as long as I return them by the end of the month. I'll pick out a few for you and bring them home next time I'm there."

"Really?" Annie asks disbelievingly. "How does that work? And you're sure it won't cost you anything?"

"It's just a lending library, a building not far from here," Raych explains. "It's free for anyone to go inside and browse, and sit down and read. If you want to take books home, there are different subscription plans. I have the unlimited one, so as long as the books come back on time and in good condition, they're free. I've already got the subscription, so we might as well make the most of it."

She's beaming at Annie, and Annie hesitantly says, "Well, if it's really no bother, it would be wonderful, I have to admit."

Finnick likes being useful; maybe Raych does too, and this is something easy and rewarding she can do.

"Annie, I keep saying I'm a professional editor. There's nothing that would give me more pleasure than bringing more books into the house and seeing someone use them."

True to her word, Raych is practically bouncing when she returns home from her next visit. She even comes to the closed bedroom door and knocks on it. Annie, who listened with mounting dread to the sound of Raych coming down the hall, isn't taken by surprise, but she does feel the old urge to hide and pretend she didn't hear the knock, the urge she thought she'd overcome in the Village, years ago.

Pretending to herself is harder to convincingly do with Cashmere right here. Even though Cashmere's sitting quietly, waiting for Annie to take the lead, and won't say anything if Annie holds her breath until Raych is gone, the last thing she wants is to feed Cashmere's fears. They have to be strong for each other, and Annie's better at spontaneous encounters. Cashmere's at her best when she has a specific goal and knows exactly what to say.

So Annie grabs onto Cashmere's hand and calls, "Come in!" as cheerfully as she can.

A sound of fumbling at the door, and Raych enters with her arms full of books. "Don't worry!" she says when Annie's eyes go wide. "I'm not expecting you to read all these. I'm not sure what your reading level is, so I got a whole range of them. Flip through them and figure out what works for you, and next time I'll bring more like that."

Looking around, Raych spots the bare desk. "Mind if I dump these here?"

Once she does, her hands sort them efficiently into neat stacks while she talks. "I hope at least one of them is to your liking, but it should give you an idea of what's out there. If you have any requests for next time, I'll be happy to see what I can do. And do please come to me if you don't know a word. I've included a dictionary that I own—I own more dictionaries than shoes—but the words in the definition might be new too. So come to me. Or if anything at all doesn't make sense. I know you grew up in a completely different culture."

Annie is overwhelmed by the excited flood of words, but she summons a friendly smile. "I didn't even know what a lending library was!"

Raych grins back at her. "I'll leave you to it, then. Remember, if the door's open, don't hesitate to come on in."

Once she's alone with Cashmere again, Annie goes over to the desk and inspects the books. A thin one with a cat on the cover, a longer one with railroad tracks...book after book after book.

Annie waves one in Cashmere's direction. "Want to pick one out for yourself?"

Cashmere shakes her head once, and Annie doesn't press. Who knows what kind of memories around books the academy left her with. Probably perfectionism and humiliation.

Finally Annie decides to start with the simplest one, and then if it's too easy, work her way up. She flips through them quickly until she's figured out which one that is, and goes back to sit cross-legged on the bed. But every sound from the apartment outside is distracting, and she can't help fretting about how much trouble Raych went to to get her these books, and what if she can't get through any of them...? Then she gets frustrated over her inability to concentrate.

"Cashmere, would you mind keeping watch?" It's weird, because it's not like Annie doesn't know at all times that Cashmere's on guard. But there's a certain relief to formally asking Cashmere to pay attention to their surroundings so Annie doesn't have to. Sometimes it lets her brain shut up for a while. The peace and quiet never lasts long, but Annie will take what she can get.

"Sure!" Cashmere agrees, with more enthusiasm than Annie can ever understand. _How are you not bored living with me?_

"Or, I don't know, would you rather I read out loud?" Annie hazards.

"Okay!"

Same enthusiasm. Annie narrows her eyes, but she knows that asking more questions won't get her any closer to knowing what Cashmere really wants. "All right. Just let me know if you get bored."

Reading out loud helps. Sometimes the sound is more familiar than the spelling. And it forces her to admit if she doesn't quite understand something, and then she looks it up in the dictionary or writes it down to ask Raych later, rather than glossing over it. It's slow going, but Annie has nothing else to do all day, and it's definitely going to help her adjust to her new country.

After a few days, she's collected a list of questions, and Raych is home with her door open. Annie ventures out, and Cashmere comes with her to stand guard.

"Wow, that's a lot of books," Annie laughs, looking around Raych's study. Not only are there more overflowing bookcases here, but piles of books on the table and what must be hundreds on the floor.

Raych peers sheepishly over the piles of papers on her desk. "I know, I keep meaning to buy more shelves and get someone to assemble them. When we bought the place, we paid someone to carry all the furniture upstairs and put up shelves, but I didn't anticipate my book collection getting this out of control."

Annie gives her an amused, perplexed smile. "I can assemble shelves. It's easy."

"Really? Like cooking?" Raych teases.

"Easier! I built boats for a living at home, you know."

Raych frowns. "I thought you did science."

"No, that was later, after the war started. I got thrown into a bunker with a bunch of engineers who decided I might be good at electronics precisely because I can read schematics and build stuff. Then they started lecturing me on science. I think mostly because they couldn't help themselves. Anyway, I'd be happy to build you as many shelves and bookcases as you like."

"That would be lovely, and I'd really appreciate it, but Nessa and I don't want to exploit you."

"No, you don't understand how much I need things to do. I can't work, I can't go to school...I had the hardest time in the Victors' Village when I had money and couldn't leave the house. I took up cooking to keep me busy, mostly. That's how I got so good, four years with nothing else to do. Then I ended up renovating my whole kitchen that last year, new cabinets and countertops and an island and everything."

"Sounds like you're the perfect person for the job, then." Raych grows thoughtful. "I suppose we'll have to buy tools...you'll have to give me a list."

"You don't have tools?" An apartment like this, and they don't even own enough tools to build shelves?

"Are you kidding?" Raych laughs self-deprecatingly. "Have you noticed how much kitchenware we've had to buy since you started cooking? I don't know what we're going to do with it when you move out." An idea occurs to her. "Maybe give it to you, and then you can invite us over for dinner."

"Oh, but you paid for it-"

Raych shakes her head firmly. "Consider it a housewarming gift when you get your own place, and a decluttering aid for us."

"Deal!" Annie says automatically, and then her heart clenches at the echo of Finnick's voice.

"Fantastic! Now, what brings you here?" Raych spies the book Annie's holding. "Wanted help with your reading?"

Annie nods. "It's such slow going, and there are some parts I can't make sense of even when I figure out what the words mean."

"Pull up a chair, then," Raych invites. "We're going to have you reading like a pro in no time."

Reading is hard, but assembly is easy. Long before Annie is reading like a pro, she's showing off the study with Raych.

Cashmere and Nessa look around admiringly. "Annie's really good with her hands," Cashmere says proudly.

"I can see that," Nessa agrees. "Very nice. It almost seems weird to have this much floor space free."

Raych swats her wife on the arm. "And look, she even carved bookends for the shelves over the desk. Now I can keep the reference books I use the most up there."

Annie smiles, pleased. "Well, books are rectangular, so it was easy to carve a bookend that looked like a row of books. I don't know if I could have carved, say, a lion."

She steps aside for Nessa to come in and see the bookends up close. Nessa starts laughing. "You had her carve the names of your favorite books into the spines?"

"Yes," Annie answers, "and I had to get the proportions right too. No titles of short books on giant tomes."

Raych brags, "She made dinner too."

"I can smell it," Nessa says warmly.

"We need to adopt more refugees!" Raych jokes. Then her smile vanishes. "I'm sorry, that was unforgivable. I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right," Annie assures her, still smiling. "You never met him, but I'm married to the master of inappropriate dark humor. I took your compliment the way you meant it."

"Maybe so, but laughing at your own tragedy is one thing."

Nessa rescues her wife and changes the subject. "You said you used to do this for a living, Annie? Is that something you'd still want to do?"

"Well," Annie says hesitantly, "I don't know how well it pays? Repair work didn't really pay where I lived, but if one of my neighbors needed help, sometimes they'd have extra food or a pair of shoes or something. There were actually laws about who was allowed to charge for what, so I always had to work for free, and then my family would accept the gifts under the table." Annie always had to remember to be grateful when the gifts went to her family, not to her. "Building boats paid because it was the government that wanted their fish, and our district had quotas to meet."

Nessa shrugs. "You won't get rich building shelves and fixing people's sinks, but especially if you join a business already making money off of it, you can support yourself. I can help you look into that if you want, when you're ready to start looking for work."

"I'd really like that, thank you."

Annie wants to get out and start being self-supporting, but even just the first part, getting out, is already filling her with dread. _That's what professional help is for_ , she reminds herself.

Except professional help won't come to her; she has to go to it.

She hopes she can.


	3. Chapter 3

"Annie Cresta?"

Annie swallows nervously and rises from her chair. Raych looks up from the manuscript she's reading and annotating to give her an encouraging smile and nod, and Cashmere is reliable as ever, there for whatever Annie needs.

With that support, Annie walks across the waiting room and into the office. Her heart ratchets up as soon as the door closes behind her, but she manages to read the woman's body language enough to interpret the gesture inviting her to sit down.

Annie sees a brown leather loveseat and a blue armchair.

"My name is Jenn. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Annie looks around at the office, but she doesn't see anywhere comfortable. The room is too open. It's got huge floor-to-ceiling windows to her right, and she can't see anywhere that isn't exposed to those windows. The armchair is smack in the middle of the room, with wide open spaces around it, as is the loveseat. The wall across from her has a desk facing the wall; to her right is the door; behind her, bookcases and a filing cabinet cover the wall. Nowhere small and enclosed. Nowhere safe.

Finally, Annie sits down gingerly on the armchair.

Meanwhile, Jenn takes a padded black chair on wheels from her desk and spins it around to face Annie, then pulls it closer and seats herself on it.

"I don't see any records of previous treatment for you. Is this your first time in therapy?"

Annie nods. She doesn't know how Jenn can stand to be sitting in the middle of the floor like that in a chair that isn't even solid on the ground.

"Welcome, then. I hope to make it a helpful experience. Are you familiar with how therapy works, or would you like a quick overview?"

Annie shakes her head. All she knows is that this is the place where they're supposed to fix her crazy so she can get a job and go shopping.

"Very good. I'll start from the beginning, then. But before I launch into my spiel, I'll let you take a minute to get comfortable and ask any questions you may have. Of course, you can ask questions any time you want, but I like to let my clients get started with what's on their mind."

Jenn then folds her hands and sits with a relaxed, patient look, like she can wait all day for Annie.

But Annie doesn't even know where to start.

"Take your time."

Annie thinks. You can't ask someone to rearrange their office to make you feel safe. That's just silly. And she doesn't even know where to start with anything else. _Can we make the Hunger Games never have happened? Can I not have been reaped? Can you promise me my husband will make it home safely?_

Finally, she shakes her head, wondering if she's missing something important.

Jenn's smile is pleasant, though. "I'll start, then. And don't hesitate to ask any questions you come up with. I try to leave pauses, but interrupt me as often as you need to."

Annie listens, but motion in her peripheral vision keeps distracting her. Someone walking across the sidewalk. A bird flying by. The light in the room suddenly dimming, making her gasp, overwhelmed with images of bombers flying overhead, until she realizes it was a cloud passing in front of the sun. She needs to get used to living above ground again. Some of her last memories before she went into hiding are of peering out the window of her house, looking for bombers.

Her eyes are unfocused. She's seeing Grace's house, imagining it invaded during the Battle for Annie Cresta, with shattered glass all over the floor the morning after the first bombs were dropped.

 _I'm sorry, almost-sister. Please be okay._

"Annie? Annie, if you need to take a break or you need anything to get comfortable, let me know. I can only help you if we talk."

Annie realizes she doesn't know how much she missed, only that it was probably a lot, and her heart is going like a jackhammer in her chest.

Raych and Nessa are paying for this, and she can't let everyone down. She needs to get better so she can get back on her feet. This isn't the Village, where she's got winnings coming in every month and more kids to run her errands than she has errands to run.

But she can't concentrate in this strange, exposed room, not even if her life depends on it.

"Can I-" The words stick in her hoarse throat. "Can I have someone come in here with me? Is that allowed?"

"Of course." Jenn leans forward in her chair, half ready to stand up. "Is there someone in the waiting room you'd like? Or next time?"

"Cashmere," Annie chokes.

Jenn flubs the unfamiliar name at the door, but not so much that Cashmere doesn't recognize it and come quickly.

Annie breathes a deep sigh as soon as Cashmere meets her eye, and she raises her chin with a mute, pleading look.

Cashmere knows without asking what Annie needs. She walks around the room as soon as Jenn's closed the door. First the windows, checking for vulnerabilities, the lay of the land outside, escape routes. Then the shelves and the books and knicknacks on them, anything that can be improvised as a weapon. Annie watches her eyes scan the floor and the furniture, checking out the spaces underneath and behind them, looking to see where there's room for someone or something to hide.

Only following Cashmere's gaze leads Annie to realize that there's a small table beside her, with a cup of water and a box of tissues. It hadn't even registered, in all her threat assessment, but now she takes a sip of water, trying to get herself under control. She's so glad that Cashmere's allowed to follow her here. Not like the Capitol, where Mags had to wait outside while Annie was poked, prodded, and questioned.

Once the brief inspection is finished, Cashmere gives Annie a nod and comes to stand beside her.

"Have a seat if you like," Jenn offers.

Cashmere looks at Annie, who really needs a formal bodyguard right now. "Thank you," she says politely to Jenn, "but I'd rather stand, if that's all right?"

"Quite all right. This room is all about making everyone in it as comfortable as possible. Better now?" she asks Annie.

She gives Jenn a tremulous smile. "Yes. I'm sorry, can you start over with what you were saying earlier? I promise to do better this time."

With Cashmere on guard, Annie's able to leave the window-watching and listening for sounds outside the door to her while she learns about therapy.

"In a nutshell, my job is to talk to you about whatever might be making you miserable, afraid, angry, or otherwise unhappy in your life, and help you come up with ways of managing your emotions so they're not so hard to deal with."

"So you're like a mentor," Annie says.

"Yes, mentoring is similar to what I do. Have you had good experiences with a mentor?"

Annie thinks of Mags. She hated her at first, dragging her through the hoops, abandoning her to the hovercraft taking her to the arena. Not leaving her alone afterward, when all she wanted to do was sleep. But then she loved her.

She nods slowly.

Jenn is pleased. "That's good, that will help you. One way in which I'm different from a mentor is that I've had formal training in medical techniques. I'm more like a doctor in that respect."

Annie doesn't like to think of doctors, shoving needles into her and talking about how soon she can make her appearance on Flickerman, so she thinks of Joule instead. Joule had formal training, and taught Annie what she knew. And she let Cashmere stand guard in the room so Annie could concentrate.

"If you have nightmares, or trouble sleeping, there are techniques I can teach you that should give you some relief. If you have times when nothing obviously bad is happening, yet your breath is coming short, your heart is pounding, your palms are sweaty, and you feel like you're going to die, I can help you learn to train yourself out of these episodes."

Annie gasps. How did she know?

Jenn nods knowingly at the shock on her face. "It happens to a lot of people, you'd be surprised. We have ways of helping with that.

"Unlike a doctor, though," Jenn continues, "I won't ever touch you. I will only sit over here and talk to you. I may make suggestions, like unclenching your fists, but you never have to do anything you're not comfortable doing.

"You also never have to talk about anything you don't want to. You can change the subject, say 'not now', or ask me not to bring something up. You can take a break any time you want, to think about what you want to say, or if it's getting too intense. I can only help you if I know what's bothering you, but making this into a torture session that you hate certainly won't help you."

Torture. Are they torturing Finnick now? Are they going to come for her, even all the way across the sea?

With an effort, Annie looks at Cashmere. They came for her before, and they even caught her, but Cashmere saved her. Cashmere's here.

"I can see that your mind wandered just now. Was I going on for too long, did I say something, did you think of something you wanted to say?"

Jenn adopts her waiting mode again, and she really does make Annie feel like she can take as long as she needs. It's a performance, Annie realizes, her mind flashing to Finnick, but it's not a bad one if it's only for work. She thinks again of Joule, whose lectures were sometimes rehearsed, as were her pauses for questions, but that just meant she had training, not that she lived with a mask she was never allowed to take off.

So Annie laughs off her impulse to tell Jenn she doesn't have to perform, not for Annie. She doesn't even know her! Finnick and Cashmere just have her feeling protective.

Instead, she tries to think what had her zoning out.

"So if I wanted to ask you not to bring up torture...I mean, we'll probably have to talk about it eventually, but-"

"That's exactly what I meant," Jenn says encouragingly, and she scribbles on the notepad in her lap. "Keep telling me about what bothers you, and remember, we never have to talk about anything that you're not ready for."

This is starting to sound like it might be doable. Only... "What if I decide I'm ready to tell you something, but not anyone else?" That was the best part of Finnick, when Donn was driving her crazy trying to help, and she couldn't order Mags around, but she could take Finnick out into the middle of nowhere and tell him everything she was thinking.

"That's a good question, and I'm glad you asked. What you tell me stays in this room. Only if you tell me you're a danger to someone else do I have the obligation to protect them by reporting you, but even then, only the parts where you're planning to break into your neighbor's house." Jenn smiles reassuringly, to say that she's sure Annie's going to do no such thing, but Annie's reliving events that she wasn't even there for.

 _Donn. Rudder. Grace._

She looks at Cashmere, and back at Jenn, pulling herself into the present more easily this time. "Okay. But if someone can overhear us..."

Jenn shakes her head. "The building was chosen with privacy in mind. The walls are very thick." She looks at Cashmere. "You couldn't hear us from the waiting room, could you?"

Cashmere shakes her head, no.

"The neighboring offices can't hear us either," Jenn assures them. "And the windows are tinted. We can see out, but no one can see in."

Annie heaves a deep breath, surprised. It's still not _good_ , because a window is still a potential point of entry in the event of a raid, but at least no one is watching her, and no one can plan a break-in from that vantage point.

"We can close the blinds, if you like," Jenn offers. "Most of my clients prefer to be able to see outside, but it's completely up to you."

Annie glances up at Cashmere. "Your professional opinion?" She'd prefer them closed, obviously, but if Cashmere's going to protect her, she's got to be able to gather all the information about terrain and movements that she can.

"Open," Cashmere answers, exactly as Annie expected.

Somehow, it's okay even with them open, because she and Cashmere are a team. She faces Jenn again and nods for her to continue.

"If we run into each other in public, I pretend I don't know you. Not because I don't like you, but because you might not want everyone to know you're in therapy. I always err on the side of protecting your privacy. I take notes on our sessions, but I lock them up, and no one else gets to read them."

Better and better—the Capitol sure as hell didn't give a fig about her privacy—but Jenn is still only a therapist. Annie makes a slight eye-rolling gesture to the ceiling, asking about bugs and hidden cameras, but Jenn doesn't seem to get what she's asking. Annie makes a sound of frustration, but Cashmere is looking intently at her. _She_ understands.

Later, then. She and Cashmere can sort out how it works in their new country.

"All right," Annie says. They can start with something neutral, then. "You said you can train me out of feeling like I'm going to die all the time? How does that work?" It sounds too good to be true, but the Capitol had the ability to help Mags wake up from her stroke and walk around again, when Daraleen didn't think there was anything she could do. Annie's starting to realize all sorts of things are possible that she could never have dreamed of.

Jenn smiles. "That's the spirit. I can't send you home cured today, but I can help you get started."

* * *

Annie looks up sharply from the quilt when the bedroom door opens. It's just Cashmere, and Annie unclenches her right fist. She hadn't even realized she was doing it, until Jenn pointed it out. Now she's trying to notice, and stop, if she can.

 _Finnick probably thought it was normal._

Cashmere sits down next to her. "I went to a park with Raych and asked her, like you said. She said there are no bugs or hidden cameras. Well, she said she can't vouch for important government buildings where they deal in secrets, but we'd never be allowed in those buildings anyway. She said we shouldn't worry about home or the therapist's office or anywhere we're likely to end up."

That rocks Annie. Cashmere must believe her, if she's willing to talk about it so openly at home.

"How can she be sure?"

"I asked her that," Cashmere says. "And she had a good point, or at least I couldn't think of anything to say. She said that we know there are bugs where we come from, because if we say the wrong thing, it gets used against us. Everybody knows, even if no one talks about it. We have our signals for asking if it's safe to talk. And I knew about all the cameras at the academy, of course."

"We didn't have bugs in the complex where I grew up," Annie says, "not nearly important enough. But the walls were thin and the neighbors could always be listening in on you, or a Peacekeeper patrolling down the hall. And when I got to the Victors' Village, Mags said the Capitol would be listening in on my every word and paying attention to it.

"I guess I can talk to Jenn about my history, then." She still wants to avoid anything that could be used against Finnick if the enemy were to learn of it, but almost relaxed is better than not relaxed at all.

So she keeps going to therapy, and gradually it becomes more familiar. Sometimes the hardest part is being in the car with Raych: stressed, trapped, and too embarrassed and afraid to have a meltdown.

"I can learn to drive," Cashmere offers, when Annie finally confesses her problem in therapy. "I think I'd be good at it."

"It would save Raych the time..." Annie muses. "If you really don't mind."

Raych is enthusiastic about the plan. "We'll pick up some learning material at the driving school on our way back from therapy next time." When she sees Annie's _I'm trying to be grateful_ face, she backtracks quickly. "Or I will, on my way to work. We'll come straight home from therapy."

"Thank you so much!" Annie says with more enthusiasm.

Cashmere's blasé about the prospect of learning to drive, right up until she's in bed staring blankly at a booklet. Curled up next to her, Annie can see the blind dread in her eyes.

She knows that feeling, and she can tell Cashmere's not processing any of what she's reading. "Is the language too different, the spelling?" she asks. "I can translate it if you want, and Raych will help with anything I don't know."

But the look on Cashmere's face doesn't change at all, and Annie wonders why the offer doesn't help. "I really don't mind," she reassures her, guessing. "It's the least I can do, since I'm too afraid to drive. And maybe it'll be less scary if I know how it works." Or more scary, but Annie doesn't mention that.

Still nothing. Cashmere shakes her head, barely perceptibly, and Annie can see the panic setting in. Gently, she takes the pamphlet from Cashmere's hand and sets it aside. Prodding her with questions right now is only going to make things worse. Annie needs something to help her relax.

Spotting a hairbrush on the desk, Annie grabs it and starts running it through Cashmere's hair, murmuring soothing things at her. "It's all right, honey. Whatever it is. We're a team, we're a family, we'll figure something out."

Finally, Cashmere says, in her smallest voice, "I didn't know you had to read for driving."

Annie's no great reader like Raych, and the spelling is certainly different, and a bunch of words, and, okay, some grammar, but it's not that different. Annie's already onto short books, and this is only one pamphlet.

Then she realizes. "Oh. They didn't teach you at the academy?" She should have guessed. When would you need it, after all? In the arena? In bed?

Cashmere shakes her head. "A little bit. Not like this. I know the alphabet. I can write my name. I can read some names, especially names of tributes, and stats. When I got my lists from the President, he seemed to enjoy reading them aloud to me and making me recite them back, but he still wanted me to carry them with me. I don't know why."

Annie fumes. "Not here. I'm not letting anyone humiliate you. I'll help you. You drove a train, right?"

"But there were only a few words, and I could memorize those. Not like this."

"This is just learning to drive, though. Maybe actual driving doesn't involve much reading either. Then I could read this to you, and after that, it'll be like the train."

"But how will we know?"

"We can ask Raych. Come on, let's go." It's easier to be brave for Cashmere than for herself.

Raych's door is open, so Annie sticks her head in. "Do you have to read in order to drive?"

"Oh?" Raych's eyes flicker from Annie to Cashmere behind her. "Oh, I see." Her face goes blank while she thinks. "No, I shouldn't think so. All the signs that are for driving are different colors and shapes, you could memorize those. Now, finding your destination—usually if it's a new place, you're looking for the sign on the building with the name."

"But I can handle that," Annie jumps in. "I'll be with her."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem." Raych smiles. "Then it's just a matter of whether they'll require you to read and write for the test. The one I took was written, but I imagine they could have someone read the questions to you. I can call and find out."

"Could you? That would be great."

A minute later, Raych is hanging up. "You're all set! If Annie can help you study the material, they'll make an accommodation for you and let you take the test out loud."

"Thank you," Cashmere breathes, still recovering from the shock of averted failure.

"Do you mind if I ask why? Were you not taught, or did you have trouble learning? We have resources, either way."

Cashmere's panic returns. Annie knows the signs of another question that seems so simple, yet Cashmere doesn't know how to answer it.

Looking perplexed, Raych tries again. "Did the other children your age have an easier time with reading, or was it just not covered?"

Cashmere just shakes her head, appealing silently to Annie for help. Annie takes her best stab at an answer. "I don't think she knew what the other children were learning, but my guess is that it wasn't covered. They didn't bother teaching her a lot of things that I take for granted."

"Every child went through a slightly different program," Cashmere finally supplies. "I found that out later, when I started teaching."

"When you were working at the academy," Annie asks, "were you supervising children practicing reading?"

Cashmere nods. She clearly has no way to judge how advanced the reading was.

"Well, anyway," Raych finally says, "the important thing is that the driving is taken care of. And if at any point you want to learn to read, do let me know."

"Everyone here is so nice," Cashmere tells her warmly.

On their way back to the bedroom, she says in an undertone to Annie, "They would never have let us ask for accommodations. They just made a note of your performance."

"We're doing this together," Annie says with determination. "I'm going to read, and you're going to memorize. You're going to drive, and I'm going to navigate."

Annie tries not to rush the process, but she can't wait until Cashmere can drive. Jenn's started suggesting assignments for her, but it's not until Cashmere has her license that Annie can force herself to get started.

"Thanks for coming out with me." Annie steps out of the car and takes Cashmere's hand.

"Annie, we go everywhere together. Do you want me to go in and do reconnaissance?"

She thinks about it, then shakes her head. "It's just a library. I'm supposed to pick the safest place outside the house I can think of to start. Let's go."

Once inside, Annie looks for a place to stand and do her own reconnaissance, and she's immediately rewarded with an embarrassment of riches. This place is amazingly comfortable.

It's the middle of a weekday, so it's not too crowded, and she pulls Cashmere into one of the empty aisles. Then she looks around while pretending to examine the books.

There's one wall of windows with desks beside them, but most of the walls are taken up with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. In fact, the whole space is carved up into smaller spaces by rows and rows of books. Any open spaces with chairs and tables are comfortably contained and easy to maneuver around the edges of.

Annie finds a couple of desks near the open spaces, where employees sit and visitors come up to them from time to time. She tiptoes in the opposite direction, still hanging on to Cashmere, and inspects the other side of the library.

One corner immediately catches her eye—and ear. It's got brighter colors than the rest of the library, and kids talking louder. With the whole library arranged in a way that has her feeling less threatened than she expected, Annie dares to venture over to that part.

Here, with Cashmere standing guard, she takes her attention off the floorplan and starts actually looking at the spines of books. She doesn't touch any of them yet, just tries to figure out how to find what she's looking for. Not that she's looking for anything in particular yet, but on her next visit, she might be.

Gradually, gaining courage, she walks around the edges of what she's identified as the part for children, and she slowly sorts out that the books are grouped together by how difficult they are. But how to find a specific book? She's still not sure.

But that's enough for a first visit. She can tell Jenn all about this next week.

"This is a good place," she says to Cashmere as they're getting in the car on the way back. "I think I might be able to come back."

"There's a whole desk where people just answer questions," Cashmere marvels, sliding into the driver's seat. It's the first time she's spoken up

"Really?" Annie was only looking around, not listening.

"Yes, everyone just kept walking up and asking where to find a book, or how to learn about a topic, or when a law was passed...and they just kept answering!"

Annie considers this. "And they were patient? They didn't mind being interrupted?"

"It didn't seem like they were being interrupted. It seemed like answering questions was their job. Of course, I could be wrong," Cashmere adds quickly, as she takes her keys out.

But Annie thinks she might be right. "Like the information desk when we went through immigration, maybe."

"She was nice," Cashmere remembers. "She helped us make calls and gave us food."

That decides her. Annie takes a deep breath, summons all her courage once again, and grabs the handle of the car door to swing it open again. "Okay, I'm going back in to ask how the children's books are organized. Hold my hand."

* * *

"One nice thing about sounding so foreign is that everyone immediately understands when we don't know how anything works," Annie observes later.

The library was nice, but it's wonderful to be back. Back at home, back sitting on their bed with the books Annie picked out. One novel, one local history book, and one about chemistry.

"I still feel like everyone knows how stupid I am," Cashmere says quietly.

"They didn't think anything of the sort!" Annie insists. "And I don't care if anyone did, they were wrong. Why do you think they offer literacy classes? Because you're not the only one who didn't learn to read as a kid."

"I guess."

Finding out about the literacy classes was, in Annie's opinion, the biggest payoff of deciding to go back in when they were already in the car. Yes, she came out of it with three books, and yes, they were nice about letting her use Raych's subscription this one time even though she's really not supposed to, but finding out that Cashmere can go there for reading lessons was a huge surprise.

"I saw a lot of kids learning there," Cashmere says. Her voice is slow, and distant, like she's still more in the library than she is here. "Some of them were even sitting on their parents' laps. Or running around, pulling books off shelves, asking questions, deciding which book they wanted and demanding to be read to..."

Annie loved the laid-back atmosphere too, the only thing that allowed her to go back inside, much less stay so long. "Would you want kids?" Annie asks, tentatively. "I mean, not here, but someday, if we had a place of our own and the money?"

Cashmere comes out of her wistful memories of the afternoon and back to the present. "If I knew how to take care of them...but I don't."

"I told you, you're allowed to hug them and talk to them about whatever they want to talk about. Whoever told you you were bad with kids was bad with kids."

"I know you said that, and I guess everyone at the library agrees with you, but I still don't know how you raise a child the right way. What do you teach them, if you're not training them for the Hunger Games? What if I do something the way I was taught at the academy and then you say it's bad?"

That argument stops Annie. With a lifetime spent at the academy, Cashmere must be missing out on a lot that Annie takes for granted.

"I feel like I'd know what to do with kids," Annie says, "I just can't do it yet. But I think I'd like to someday, if the therapy works and I get a job and things get easier. I want to keep living with you, though, and I don't want you to be stuck with children you don't want."

"Annie, if you know what you're doing, I'd love to help out if you just tell me what to do. You're the smart one, and I'm willing to work."

"We're a team," Annie agrees, "but I wish you'd give yourself more credit. Cashmere, if I do get a job, and we have some more money, would you want to try therapy on your own?"

"Therapy?" Cashmere looks at her in confusion. "But I'm not afraid of going outside, why would I need therapy?"

"No, you don't have my problems, and I'd feel bad asking Raych and Nessa to pay for your therapy too. But some of the things Jenn and I have talked about, like my family always blaming me for hardships, and how that affected me, make me think that maybe talking about what goes on inside your head will help you feel better about yourself."

"And about having kids?" Cashmere wonders.

"Maybe. You could try it and see."

"I think I'd like that. But I don't know if I'd be any good at therapy. I've seen what you and Jenn do, and it's the kind of thing I'm bad at."

"Well, we're a team, right?" Annie asks, and Cashmere smiles reluctantly. "And you're good enough at talking when it's someone you trust. I'll help you get started, and if it's helping, you can carry on."

Cashmere's appreciative but less than enthusiastic, and she doesn't bring it up again. What she does bring up, again and again, is kids. The more questions she asks, and the more Annie explains to her what she knows about being a parent, or says they'll have to figure it out as they go along, the more Annie starts to imagine starting a family. She knows she's not quite there yet, but it's nice to dream.

Better than her other dreams, anyway.

* * *

Annie wakes with a gasp. She lies unmoving in bed, running over her life story in her head, sorting out fact from fiction.

Then she shivers, because fiction could be fact and she would never know. She wraps her arms around herself and presses her body up against Cashmere's for comfort. Cashmere's sleeping on her stomach, so Annie pushes down on the mattress so that she can slide underneath just a little.

Cashmere stirs. "Hey," she murmurs heavily. "You okay, Annie?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," Annie apologizes. Cashmere usually sleeps through Annie wrapping herself around her.

Cashmere turns on to her side and holds Annie. "You didn't. I was half asleep."

Annie lets herself be comforted by the warmth of Cashmere's body and the softness of her flannel pajamas. When she feels a little like herself again, she asks, "We haven't heard from Finnick, have we?" just to be sure.

"I haven't," Cashmere answers. "Why, did yo—oh. You had a nightmare?"

"I dreamed that he was fighting, and the battle ended, and he was left for dead on the field."

"Oh, Annie." Cashmere hugs her tight. "Do you want us to go look for him, after the war ends?"

Annie gasps again, as the fear that she had just gotten under control floods her again. "We should, shouldn't we? But I don't think I can. Not unless this therapy works a lot better than it has so far."

"We don't have to," Cashmere immediately backtracks. "I'm sure he'll send word when it's over."

"If he can. I should let you go look, shouldn't I?" Annie knows she's selfish, but the thought of having both of them to worry about is a dreadful one, as dreadful as the thought of being alone when Cashmere leaves.

"I don't want to leave you. We can ask someone else to look. He's famous. Someone will recognize him."

Annie nods, relieved. "You're right. Besides, what if we go there looking for him and he comes here looking for us? We have to stay where he expects to find us."

With that decision made, Annie finally relaxes a little. She hasn't told Cashmere about the part of her nightmare where Finnick's not-quite-dead body turned into Evan's, and rose shouting at her about how if his district partner was going to get him killed, couldn't it at least not have been the useless, fragile, mad girl? Couldn't she have won a victory worth talking about and lived a life worth living?

At least Evan's an old wound, not a gaping, bleeding one like abandoning Finnick to an unknown fate. And Cashmere's here, with her strong, capable hands patting Annie's back. Under that calm, steady rhythm, Annie breathes deep, finally remembering the exercises Jenn taught her. She moves her own hand thoughtfully over Cashmere's belly. "What's it like being pregnant?" she wonders, slow and dreamy.

"Oh? It's different for everyone. That's why I couldn't be sure about you when you had skipped a couple months. But for me...I didn't throw up too much, but it made me queasy for a long time. I remember my breasts hurting, both times. Mostly I felt slow and heavy. Easily tired. Clumsy, as I started to get larger. I was used to my body being agile, easy to maneuver. That was what took the most getting used to, for me."

"Hmm." Annie contemplates. "Doesn't sound like you liked it very much."

"It wasn't very pleasant." Then her voice changes, becomes eager. "But I can do it again if you-"

"I was thinking more of me," Annie assures her. "Maybe it's better if you're looking forward to the baby. You weren't, were you?"

"Well-" Cashmere starts to sound strained, remembering. "I didn't have anyone to talk to, I didn't know anything about what was going to happen afterward—I thought either it was obvious I would have to do my part and bring them up or it was obvious that they'd go to someone who knew what they were doing. I felt so stupid for not knowing which one was obvious that I couldn't have asked even if I'd thought anyone would answer.

"But I was happy, too, more relieved than I'd been since I met President Snow. At least I hadn't screwed up so badly they didn't want my gene-" Cashmere starts to shake. Annie clutches her tight. "Do you think—when I defected—tainted blood-"

"Oh, no." Annie rocks back and forth, desperately wanting to wipe out that image. "Oh, no. They couldn't," she tells Cashmere, knowing full well that they could. "You never even met them!"

Cashmere buries her face on Annie's shoulder, shudders a couple of times, and then takes a shaky breath. "You're right. And I did kill children, and later I killed one of my students, so if I can live with that, I guess I can live with never knowing if children I never met were killed because of something I did. So you're thinking of having a baby?"

"I want to do _something_ normal with my life. I want to live with you and get paid to fix things and raise some kids. I don't want to let the Capitol take that away from me."

"I want that too. Maybe we can have it here. Finnick was right, it's very different from Panem."

"I wish I could feel safe," Annie sighs. "But maybe, even if I can't, I can _act_ like I would if I felt safe."


	4. Chapter 4

Even with Cashmere driving now, Raych is kind enough to go with Annie when she applies for her first job in Ayre. A few phone calls have turned up a hardware store that does in-store and at-home repair jobs and is hiring.

Cashmere instinctively takes her spot in front of Annie as they enter the store, so the man waiting in uniform by the entrance asks her how he can help. She and Annie answer at the same time.

"She's looking for a job-" "I was told you were hiring-"

He gestures down the aisle directly in front of them. "Right over there, very back on your left."

Annie grabs Cashmere's hand as they approach, even knowing Cashmere will need her hands free if there's an emergency. She's not really afraid that she needs a bodyguard here, not truly. She's just...scared.

She clings to that hand through the whole first interview, where she explains about her lack of work history and formal education, her heart sinking as she realizes more and more that she doesn't have anything they're looking for, and there must be fifty people who need this job and can prove they can do it.

"She doesn't have any work history _in this country_!" Raych interjects loyally. "She built all my bookshelves from scratch, and she did a great job."

"Well, it's not quantum physics," the man says kindly. The interview is being conducted by two employees, a man and a woman. Annie's already forgotten their names, and is trying to surreptitiously peek at their name tags. "Formal education doesn't matter so much."

"She can do that too!" Cashmere pipes in, squeezing Annie's hand back with all her might.

The woman interviewing her gives her a curious look. "Can you?"

Annie blushes. "I was studying a little engineering when I left the country, but I still had a long way to go."

"Well, Panem is the one with the nuclear weapons," he says, sotto voce, to his companion.

"I don't know how to make nuclear weapons!" Annie flares, forgetting to be polite in her anger. Now she's not going to get the job because everyone hates and fears Panem, and that's going to be yet another thing her country has ruined for her, halfway around the world. "I don't ever want to see another weapon as long as I live! Boats. I built fishing boats. And now I want to build bookshelves and tables and doors, and if you don't hire me, then I'll stay home and build them for people who want them."

"Better hire her before she drives us out of business," the woman jokes. "I think we should give her a practical exercise."

Here, Annie is on more familiar ground. She hammers and saws, drills and sands, and with each passing minute feels her hands growing steadier and her stomach subsiding. Cashmere's close by, keeping an eye on the customers and the employees, mentally improvising weapons and finding escape routes, so that Annie doesn't have to.

When she looks up from the table with a deep breath and no sense of how much time has passed, she's fixed a damaged birdhouse and installed a simple lock. She wishes they'd ask her something she couldn't do in her sleep, something that lets her show that she has actual skill, but at least she did it.

Then comes the third round. Annie's a little calmer for it, but the questions are about dealing with difficult customers, resolving disputes, things like that, and she doesn't have any experience to draw on. Once again, she becomes sure she's disqualifying herself.

In the end, they take down her phone number, promise to call if they decide in her favor, and wish her a good day.

Startled that that's all, Annie follows Raych out to the parking lot. "Want to try the next place on our list?" Raych asks as they're getting into the car. "They only make house calls for repairs. No store, no new construction."

"I-I didn't realize I'd leave not knowing if I got the job," Annie tells her. She slides into the back next to Cashmere and tries to reorient herself.

"Oh, that's standard. If you wanted to clean tables, you might get your answer on the spot, but if the job requires any kind of skill, you'll wait to hear back."

Shaking, Annie buries herself in Cashmere's arms while she thinks. Is she up to yet another job interview today? None of this is going the way she expected.

Cashmere's embrace, patient and supportive as always, is not only comforting, it's motivating. If Annie doesn't get a job, Cashmere will have to. She's willing, but it'll be a lot less fun and pay less. And Annie will have to sit at home, bodyguard-less, scared to death, feeling like she failed, and getting sicker and sicker instead of getting on her feet.

"I...I guess." Annie still doesn't move, and Raych waits, not starting the car as long as Annie is half on Cashmere's lap. Cashmere strokes her hair, not saying anything, letting Annie decide. She wants to go home, she wants to curl up under the covers and cry with Cashmere, she wants everyone to just bring her work so she doesn't have to leave.

Just as she's starting to imagine how comfortable the bed would be, Annie pulls away from Cashmere. "Let's go before I change my mind."

In the end, Annie interviews at half a dozen places before she hears back. Each one is agony, and she wishes she didn't need two people to accompany her, but she goes every day she can.

"Don't worry about that, dear," Raych says, waving a hand. "Cashmere's been driving you to therapy and doing all our errands, I hardly go anywhere any more. It's good to have an excuse to get out of the house and see new places."

Annie chokes—she'd give anything never to see a new place again—but she's grateful to both of them. She went to two interviews sleep deprived, and one groggy when she sedated herself as heavily as possible the night before, but finally she got an offer.

It's not the first store, but it's another one, on the other side of town, that's much like it. "I'll go with you," Cashmere promises, "it doesn't matter how far."

"You can borrow the car," Nessa says, "until you can afford one of your own. I always take the bus, and Raych only goes into the office a couples times a week. If you don't mind continuing to do the shopping while you're out?"

Cashmere doesn't mind. Annie does, of course, but she's so lucky she doesn't complain. If she can go to work, she can follow Cashmere into the supermarket on the way back, no matter what it costs her. If they have a routine, maybe she'll even get used to it.

"And congratulations!" Raych says. "No pressure, but are we celebrating? Just us, of course, but something special for dinner."

"Hmm." Food would make her feel better. "I could make banana nut bread," Annie muses. "And-what?"

Cashmere has an unhappy look and is silently signalling her no. "They don't have bananas here. I asked at the store once. I wanted to surprise you, but nobody's heard of them."

Annie's jaw drops. "I know you don't have cinnamon, but you don't even have bananas?" And she knows how spoiled that sounds, but bananas weren't even a post-Victory discovery like cinnamon. They had them right there in the fruit markets, long before she could afford them.

"What's a banana?" Raych asks, interested.

"It's a fruit, and I guess it doesn't grow here."

Nessa, the agronomist, shrugs. "I haven't heard of it, but if we even had that here before the nuclear wars, I know some fruits have been harder to adapt to our climate than others. You could make another fruit bread."

"Cranberry, I suppose. I know you have cranberries. And fish for the main course?"

"We'll get some fish," Nessa promises.

Over dinner, Annie talks excitedly about the phone call. "I have to go through a few weeks of training. And I'm entry level for now because I don't have any experience working in a store with customers. But I can make cabinets and everything!"

Her first day starts out terrifying, but by the time she comes home, she realizes it went better than expected. She's brimming over with news at the dinner table. "They said Cashmere can't go into the employee-only parts of the store, but she can hang out in the customer service area all day as long as she doesn't distract me. And when I go out to do repairs, she can't go inside customers' houses, for liability reasons, but she can wait in the car."

Then, saying those words aloud to someone else, Annie hears how they sound. She turns to Cashmere, sitting next to her. "That sounds horribly exploitative."

"Oh, no." Cashmere keeps eating her fish, unconcerned. "That's what bodyguards do."

"But you're not—you're family!"

"Yes, I am," she argues. "Like you, you're family, but you're also the cook, and you do what cooks do. That's not exploitation."

Annie has to admit that actually sounds reasonable. She puts her arm around Cashmere's shoulders and glows. "Isn't she great?"

"She's pretty great," Nessa agrees, smiling at them both.

"And we're so glad you found a job you wanted," Raych adds. "And don't let us exploit you with the cooking!"

Annie laughs. "No worries, I'm happy to do it. I'll tell you if I'm too tired now that I have a job. But I really want to save up so Cashmere and I can get a car and a place of our own. I think it's all going to work out. I'm signing all the paperwork tonight and going back with it tomorrow."

Every day brings new excitements to share.

"They won't let me touch electrical appliances, but I was talking to Jonny, one of the guys who does, about my experience in District Three, and he says I should take the classes and get certified, and he doesn't think it'll even be hard for me!" She deflates a little. "I don't know how much it costs, or if it'll be worth the money."

Raych and Nessa exchange a look. "I should think an electrician makes more than a plain handyworker," Nessa says. Raych nods, not certain but not disagreeing. "And if you can do both, you can take more jobs. I'd look into it, at least. It might be a great career move, especially if you enjoy it."

So Annie does the research. Raych helps. So does the very friendly help desk in the library, where it's getting easier to go.

And the conclusion that Annie comes to, when she's done the math, is that it'd be worth it. She can work, take evening classes, save up, and it'll pay off after not too long.

"You've done this sort of work before?" Nessa asks. "And you liked it and you'd plan to stick with it?"

"I didn't wire buildings," Annie explains, "but I helped assemble devices small enough to fit on a table, and I picked it up very quickly. And yes, I did like it. And more than that, I liked learning new things. I don't think I could be an inventor now—maybe if I'd grown up here, or even in District Three, and had the education—but I've seen what Jonny does and I asked the librarians, and I could definitely be an electrician, easy."

"And the numbers add up," Nessa says, looking at the sheet Annie's laid out on Raych's desk. "It'll pay off." She and Raych exchange a long look. "How's this, then? I see your company's willing to help you get started, about a third of the cost if all goes well. You can take out a loan for the second third—we can help you with that. And if the first two thirds are successful, and it's just a question of finishing up, we'll make sure money isn't what's keeping you from getting the certification."

"Really?" It's one thing after another, but Annie knows she wouldn't have gotten anywhere if not for unexpected kindness. Mags, Finnick, Cashmere, Joule, Raych, Nessa... "I don't want to ask you for even more money after you're already feeding us and paying for my therapy and medication, but we are trying to become independent."

"An education's a good investment," Nessa says. "And I know you're saving up for a car too."

"A car, yes, and we'd like to move out and get a place of our own so you can take in students again...do you think we'll be able to?

"I wouldn't think you could buy a nice place right off the bat, but if you're willing to do repairs, or rent for a while, I'm sure you'll be able to cover living expenses soon enough."

"And you've been saving us money on repairs and food," Raych reminds warmly.

"Not as much as we've been costing you."

Nessa smiles. "Oh, we wouldn't take in students if we didn't want to spend money on meeting young people and helping them out. How many times do we have to tell you that?"

"I wouldn't say no to another mushroom and tuna casserole, though," Raych hints.

"Casseroles are easy."

"You think everything is easy." Cashmere surprises Annie by joining in the banter. "Like becoming an electrician."

"Well. I guess I'll find out."

* * *

The placement tests are anything but easy. Leaving the large, table-filled hall after the last one, Annie's half convinced she can't do this at all. Raych tries to cheer her up, and Cashmere reminds her of all the times she did actual electronic work, but Annie's gloomy.

She takes to obsessively checking the mail, and it becomes contagious. Raych is heard leaving her study a hundred times a day, and when Nessa opens the front door after work, she shakes her head with a disapproving frown at the sad state of the mail.

Finally, the day comes when Annie wakes up from an impromptu afternoon nap to Cashmere telling her Raych slid an envelope under the door while she was sleeping.

Annie's hands shake. "You open it," she pleads with Cashmere. "I can't look."

Cashmere obliges, and then stares at the form, frowning. "I can't read it all. But it starts with...yes, I think this word is 'congratulations.' Annie, I think you got in!"

Annie snatches the letter, scans it quickly. "I got in!" It slips from her hands as she throws herself at Cashmere. "I got in!"

"You got in!" Cashmere hugs her, as delighted as she is. "You're the smartest person I know."

"Well, I don't kn—oh, what the heck. I'm the smartest person I know too!"

Flushed with excitement, Annie bounces a couple of times on the bed, laughing hilariously with Cashmere, and then looks around for her letter. Cashmere fetches it up from where it fell onto the floor, and they settle in together. Cashmere puts her arm around Annie's back and positions her head so she can read over Annie's shoulder.

Annie runs her finger under each line and reads it out loud, taking in the details. "Oh. Oh, it says remedial math. I guess that's fair." She cheats a little and skips ahead. "No, regular classes for all the others. I did it!"

That night, they feast on chocolate cake.

* * *

The first day is, as first days often are, the hardest. Annie sits in the very back at the end of the row, by the door where Cashmere has posted herself. She's here to learn about the safety codes, one of the first required courses before students are allowed to do any hands-on work.

Annie's expecting a lot of memorizing, and a hard time with all the reading, but she's hoping the chance to practice a bunch of reading on something that isn't conceptually difficult will make the rest of her courses easier.

Everyone's seated and talking more or less quietly at one minute till start time, but Annie's anxiously looking around, most of her attention focused on the door.

So she sees a middle-aged man stop and smile at Cashmere.

"Come on in," he invites, "class is about to start."

"Oh, I'm not-" Cashmere is flustered. She was expecting to stand here and not be noticed.

"Not in this class? I'm sorry."

He continues on to the front of the room, where he introduces himself as the instructor, Nills.

Annie can barely concentrate, but with the help of Jenn, she's set herself one assignment for today, and that's staying put and copying down the homework so she can complete it at home. Next week's assignment is getting to know one of the other students so she can ask for help if she needs it later on.

The moment class ends, she's the first one out the door, trying to flee before she can make a public scene. But Cashmere, for once, has dug in her heels and refuses to budge. "Annie, I don't want to get in trouble for standing here."

"But he didn't say anything, he was just being nice."

"But what if he thought I was a student in another class, and I'm not even supposed to be in this building? I need to know what the rules are."

Annie wants to cry in frustration, but she knows that completely blank look on Cashmere's face hides a petrified interior.

On the verge of having a meltdown, she just stops herself from blurting out, _Go ask him yourself if you're so worried._ Cashmere came all the way here to help with Annie's fears. Annie can't hold her own fears against her.

At the front of the classroom, there's a short line of students all wanting to talk to the instructor, and the waiting makes it worse. But so does the audience, and when Nills catches her eye, Annie panics and shakes her head and looks away, so he turns to someone else.

Only once they're the last ones left, does Annie dare to step up. She should have rehearsed, but her mind was a complete blank the whole time. "I-um-isitokayifshestandsbythedoor?"

Nills takes a step forward, tilting his head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

Annie takes a deep breath, forces herself to slow down and speak up. "Is it okay if she's not a student and she waits outside while I'm in class?"

"Sure, of course." He smiles. "She your ride home, or vice versa?"

Annie nods, her throat closed. She's so glad his guess means she doesn't have to explain the real reason.

"Well, it'll be boring, but come on in if there's room for you and you want to sit and read or something," Nills tells Cashmere. "As long as all the enrolled students have a seat."

"Really?" The word comes out before Annie realizes she can talk again. "Because they wouldn't let her inside during the exams," she explains.

"The admissions to the program, you mean? That's a lot more formal. Here, if it's quiet, and there's no cheating, it doesn't matter to me. Are you new to the country?" he asks politely, but his eyes fly open wide when the tears Annie's been holding in check spill over onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry, if that was insensitive-!"

It's a tossup who's more embarrassed, him, or Annie. She sees Cashmere look from one to the other in confusion, wondering if she's supposed to field the small talk or comfort Annie or what. She settles for tucking her arm through Annie's and passing her a handkerchief, which Annie accepts gratefully.

"No, no, it's not you!" Annie says through the handkerchief. As long as she was scared, she could hold it together, but his kindness at letting Cashmere into the room broke past the scraps of her facade. He was just starting to treat her like a normal person, and she had to go and ruin it again.

"No, but I shouldn't have assumed you haven't been here since you were a child, I didn't mean that you stand out-"

"No, I know you can barely understand me through this accent, I know I stand out!" Somehow, between the flood of tears and his own embarrassment, Annie's dam of words has been loosened. She leans against Cashmere, and laughs and cries and blows her nose. "Yes, I just moved here, and it's been a long day, and it was the strain, that's all." And it's taken her the better part of a decade, Mags, Finnick, Cashmere, and Jenn to get to the point where she can articulate any of this while crying instead of hiding in that very inviting cabinet over in the corner.

Stepping awkwardly from one foot to the other, Nills tries to put her at ease. "You're not the first student to cry in front of me, but usually after exams, not on the first day!"

"Well, I, um-" Annie shifts, and without her needing to say a word, Cashmere slides an arm around her and looks around the classroom so that Annie doesn't have to. "I'm from Panem. We're from Panem. And it really means a lot to me that she can come inside the classroom. My therapist said if I can't make myself go to a new place alone, I should try going with her. So thank you. Really."

He looks embarrassed again. "It's nothing special, but you're welcome. And, oh, a therapist—is this a conversation you'd rather have in my office? These aren't my usual office hours, but I'm on my way there if you want to come."

Annie takes a deep breath, but she really is well past her limits if she's standing here with tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry-"

"Or if you'd rather not, if you want to write down anything you'd like me to know about your situation, or any other suggestions your therapist made, feel free to hand it to me in class. I know most students taking evening classes have day jobs and families and can't always make office hours, so if writing works better for you, go for it."

"Really? I might try that."

Of course, after the struggle of deciding what to say, comes the struggle of putting it into writing. Raych helps, though, and tells her it's good practice. "I suppose," Annie grumbles. "There's so much to practice. I wish I could have learned all this math and science at school, when I didn't panic over every little thing _and_ when I knew how to spell and I didn't sound like a foreigner all the time."

"You're doing great, though," Raych encourages. "Look at how far you've come."

"I've had a lot of help. I've had so much help."

Annie looks gratefully at Cashmere when she says those words. Cashmere never seems to get tired of her, even after all these years. It makes Annie guilty sometimes, and furious at herself because she's not perfect, not by a long shot. When they're stuck in traffic on the way to school, she's so stressed about being exposed and being late and failing her class and getting in a car accident that she snarls at Cashmere.

"I'm sorry!" Cashmere doesn't know what she did wrong, but as usual, she must have done something. She freezes, at the wheel, her eyes just darting to the corner to look at Annie, without daring to say anything.

"No-I-you didn't, I just-" Annie feels sick, and she can't apologize, she can barely form words, she just wants to dig a hole in the ground and hide there where no one can _find_ her. "I'm sorry," she bursts out, "we'll talk about this later." And then she really can't say any more.

Cashmere just drives in a tense silence, waiting.

After all that, they're not even late. Pathologically afraid of something going wrong, Annie's normally the first one to class, which buys her some time on days like this. She even has time to pull Cashmere into the women's room for a little privacy and give her a long hug and some reassurance, now that she's past the peak of her fear. She's still tired, and she can feel a headache coming on from all that, but she's going to do this. She just has to go to class. She can leave early if she has to.

But then she has another problem.

When she gets to class, there's a man in her seat by the door. Annie stands uncertainly, clutching her books to her chest, looking around the room. Maybe she could just sit next to him? But there's no room for Cashmere on the other side—that spot's taken too.

"I can stand," Cashmere whispers, reading her mind.

It's not like her mind's hard to read. Eventually, she hovers there so long that the guy in her seat looks up and catches her frustrated, indecisive gaze. "I'm sorry, did you want to sit here?"

She hates being an inconvenience, but she knows if Finnick were here, she'd already have her seat, and he'd be friends with the guy who gave it to her.

"Just in case I have to leave early?" Annie gives him an apologetic smile through the headache.

He shrugs and shifts his stuff one desk over. Cashmere presses her back to the wall and stands motionless behind Annie, able to survey the entire classroom and react quickly if anyone comes through the door.

"Thank you so much. I'm Annie, by the way." Finnick told her that it's easier to get someone to do something for you if they feel they know you, so always introduce yourself when you ask for a favor.

"I'm Paul." He hesitates, then leans over and whispers, under the quiet hubbub of the classroom, "Do you understand this week's homework at all?"

"Oh my god, it's so hard. I've got a friend from another class who's promised to look over it with me. She's really good at math, she's not in remedial." Talking shop, Annie feels her words start to flow again.

Paul looks down at the desk. "I'm taking this class for the second time."

Annie raises her eyebrows. It's hard, but she hopes she doesn't do so badly she has to repeat it. "Well, if she can explain it to me so I understand it, I can try to explain it to you." The offer is partly selfish; she'd love a second chance to go over it with a study partner. "Can you come over to my place at eight tomorrow? Or eight-thirty the night after? I know that's the day before it's due, but-"

Paul makes a face. "It's a little late. What about seven tomorrow?"

"That's when my friend Marthe and I are meeting. You're not in schematics?"

He shakes his head. "I had it last year. I can visualize like there's no tomorrow, I just can't do this number business."

"Hmm. Want to help us with schematics and she'll help us with math?"

"Sounds perfect!"

* * *

Annie's seriously stressed about this math class, but she remembers Joule's advice: take breaks and give her mind a rest, instead of obsessing over the details until everything's a blur. It's hard advice to follow, but she makes herself.

In the morning before work, she bakes chocolate chip cookies and wrestles with a scone recipe. The scones don't turn out as fluffy as she'd like, but the cookies make up for it.

When a knock sounds at the door at seven, she nods at Cashmere to slide the trays into the oven just to warm them up, and she goes to answer the door. "Marthe! I hope you don't mind, I invited another student. We can do half schematics, half math? I have cookies."

Marthe laughs warmly. "Sounds good."

"Come on in. We just have to be a little quiet, Raych works from home and I see her door is closed."

Paul joins them just a few minutes later, and helps himself to a cookie. "They're really good!"

Marthe looks tempted. "They smell good! I'm watching my figure, though."

"Oh, I'm watching mine," Annie laughs. She puts her hands over her belly and pantomimes it expanding. "I'm watching it grow! You can have a scone, though. They're not as good, but next time I promise they'll be better. Or some fruit, whatever you want. Just help us!"

Marthe is one of those people, like Beetee and Joule, who's good at explaining things. She walks them through a sample problem, then another. Then, patiently, another, when Paul is still uncertain.

"Wait a sec." Eyes narrowed, Annie drops out of the conversation to scribble equations on some scratch paper. Then she rearranges them into the unfamiliar symbols she's been struggling with and pushes the paper in front of Marthe. "Are these right, here at the bottom?"

Marthe looks them over. "Yeah, looks pretty good. I think you got it, Annie!"

Groaning, Annie sinks back into her chair and covers her face. "I can't believe it. I learned this years ago. In District Three. I could definitely use a refresher, but I did learn it! I think I've been so confused because I got misled by the different name and different notation and thought this couldn't possibly be the same thing."

"So you're good at math," Paul says enviously, "you're just handicapped because you're from a different country."

Annie throws up her hands. "I don't know, maybe I am good at math. I'm pretty sure most of the stuff we've covered in this class is new to me. We hardly learned anything where I grew up, and I didn't spend much time in Three before I came here."

Paul keeps looking at her with admiring envy throughout the session. Then, at the end, he smiles at her. "The food's really good, Annie, and you're really smart. You're not, uh, interested in going out some time, are you?"

This always happens. Annie braces herself and puts on a forced smile. "I'm sorry, I don't really like going outside. This is why I have my study groups here."

Paul looks surprised. "Well, I could come over some time."

Then Annie gets it and wants to smack herself. Wow, it's been too long. "I'm sorry, was that a date going out or a just-friends going out?"

"Either?" He still looks hopeful, and Annie says the first thing that pops into her head.

"I'm sorry, you seem very nice, but I'm married. Come over for cookies and studying, though, both of you!"

Paul takes the hint, and they both manage not to break down in embarrassment in front of Marthe. The study group ends on friendly terms, with Annie urging cookies on them and promising better scones.

But as soon as they're gone, Cashmere, who's been sitting silently in the back of the kitchen taking up less space than you'd think possible, whirls on Annie. "Would Finnick mind or not?" she demands.

Annie sinks, exhausted, into a chair, and grabs a cookie. "He wouldn't, of course," she mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate. "I just wanted to let Paul down gently. I don't know, maybe I'll get to know him and it'll be great. But right now I have you, I have a job, I have classes, I have a math handicap, I have therapy, and I don't think I could handle dating on top of all that. And I don't feel like I need to? You give me great sex, someone to go out with, someone to cook for, someone to snuggle up with while I read...and if he's not nice to you I'd have to kill him."

Cashmere chuckles. "So it's not really because you're married?"

"I'm married to you. I'm very busy being married to you."

"But you won't be too busy being married to me if Finnick comes back, right?" Cashmere checks.

"No, and that's another term in the equation. If he comes back, I'll be even busier, and if Paul isn't nice to him, I'll have to kill him! Paul, I mean."

Finishing her cookie, Annie puts out her arms. "No one's going to be mad at you, love, I promise. And you're not keeping me from anything I want to do. Now eat a cookie and make me happy."

While Cashmere is nibbling, Annie looks at the pieces of paper Cashmere's been poring over while all the electrician students were busy studying. "How's the reading practice going?"

Cashmere sighs. "I don't know. It's hard to concentrate. I keep worrying that you need me for something and I keep looking up."

"Honey. I'll tell you if I need anything. I'll say your name."

"I know." She sighs again, looking down. "Maybe I'm just not good at this."

"No, come on, what helps you relax?" The last thing Annie wants is to be keeping Cashmere from doing something for herself. "I can snuggle you, or play with your hair-"

Cashmere looks up, hopefully. "Maybe that one. I like snuggling, but I think it relaxes me _too_ much for this."

"Hair it is, then."

In between munching on pieces of fruit, and okay, one more cookie, Annie braids two long plaits and winds them around the top of Cashmere's head, then secures them with hairpins.

Finally Cashmere sets down the paper and reaches a hand up to her head. "What did you do?"

"Made you a crown," Annie says proudly.

Cashmere explores it with her fingers and looks pleased. "Princesses wear crowns, right?"

"I don't know about other princesses, but this one does."

Cashmere turns around and hugs Annie. "Remember when I did your hair before your wedding?"

"I remember," Annie says, but it seems so far away. She tries not to think about Panem more than she can help. "Speaking of weddings, would you...would you like to get married?"

"Oh, I don't know, Annie. I did want to, but that was back when I needed someone to rescue me. Now I have all the good parts of being married, like you said, and I'd rather live with you. I don't want to go through the whole process of meeting people and-"

About halfway through, Annie starts laughing. "I meant me, silly. That was a proposal."

"Marry you?" Cashmere repeats, startled.

"I know, it never would have occurred to me either, but if Raych and Nessa can do it..."

"But you're already married!"

"In name." Annie sighs. "But I live with you, and this feels a lot more like a real marriage. I didn't realize how much, until Paul asked me out."

"That's not Finnick's fault!" Cashmere protests. "It hasn't even been two years. The war's still going on."

Annie doesn't want to push, because the answer is clearly no, and it feels like criticizing Finnick, but she has to be honest. "To me, it's been longer than two years, though. It's no one's fault. It's just the way it is. But how often did I see him when I was in the bunker? Who was getting food for me, standing guard while I assembled electronics, sleeping next to me at night?

"I don't want to abandon him like he did something wrong, when he's just fighting a war I wish I could have fought in, but even before the war...when I went out with him, I had to do it on his schedule or not at all, because he was busy all day and in the Capitol half the year. He'd drop by my house, and I'd have to decide, _Yes, I can go out today,_ or _No, I can't._ With you, I can wait until I'm ready and then we go. And I can talk to you when there's something on my mind, not three months later. And I can cook for you when we're hungry, not on no notice when you show up famished, one hour after I ate a big meal.

"It's no one's fault, or if it is, it's mine for not being able to leave the house and do anything with him, or even go on dates with no notice, but if he's not here anyway, I just like the thought of having a marriage that works."

"It's not that I don't want to be married to you," Cashmere explains, somewhat desperately. "It's just that I don't want to hurt Finnick. If the war ends, and he comes back...we have to at least give him until the war's over."

"That's fair," Annie concedes. "But when the war's over?"

"You mean if he doesn't make it?" A battle of emotions plays out across her face and settles on stubbornness. "I hope he makes it."

"So do I! You think I want anything to happen to him? I just have this idea that after the war, he's going to be very busy with cleanup. I don't want to spend my life waiting on someone who might not even be coming."

"I can understand that," Cashmere says, "but I don't want to be the one who broke up your marriage. You would have to divorce him, right?"

Annie makes an unhappy face. "Yes. I asked at the library, and not even Ayre will let me be in two marriages at the same time. And we can't have him declared legally dead for a long time."

"Then we have to wait. But if it weren't for Finnick, yes, I'd be over the moon at getting married, Annie, really I would."

Annie's disappointed and relieved at the same time. She doesn't really want to give up on making it work with Finnick. But at the same time, it's already working with Cashmere, and she'd started letting herself play with ideas about weddings in her head.

It doesn't matter, she tells herself. She's married in all but name, and when Finnick comes back, she'll be married in name too.


	5. Chapter 5

Through all the times when Annie doesn't know if she can do it, Cashmere sticks with her. Going to every class with her, going to work, keeping her company while she does her homework, waiting in the car while she works on someone's house, holding her while she has a bad episode and letting her shake it off. Looking impressed with her progress, telling her she's smart. Celebrating with her every time she finishes a class. Telling Jenn when Annie doesn't bring it up.

With that kind of support, Annie even makes it to the certification ceremony at the end of the program, though she has to sit in the front of the room, with the other newly minted electricians, and Cashmere in the audience. The setting is small and informal, and Annie knows almost all the students, and it doesn't remind her of receiving her victor's crown, not even a little bit.

"I wish Joule could be here," she says to Cashmere afterward, when they're standing in line at the refreshments table.

"She'd be so proud of you," Cashmere agrees, glowing. "Beetee too, everyone."

"I like to think I've made them proud. Even if they'll never know."

"Finnick will tell them," Cashmere says confidently. "When he comes back, he'll figure out how to get a message to District Three. He's good at that. Annie, I'm sorry, don't cry! He'd want you to be happy today!"

Blinking, Annie looks down at the floor. He would, but it wasn't missing him that made the tears spring to her eyes. It was realizing that Joule and Beetee and the rest of her engineer friends had been on her mind on a day like this, but Finnick hadn't. It was the shock of remembering that she might see him again, a hope that must have gradually faded without her realizing it.

It was the shame of hearing Cashmere mention him as casually as if she just saw him last week. She obviously thinks of him every day. She's looking at Annie with concern, and Annie gives her a smile she hopes is reassuring and tries to distract herself by stepping up to the table and looking over her options.

Taking a cheese-filled pastry from a tray, Annie wonders if Finnick has enough to eat where he is.

On the other side of the table, the setting sun is streaking the sky yellow and pink through the floor-to-ceiling windows. _Come here,_ she thinks as hard as she can, as if she can make her words reach him. _You can catch up on sleep, and I'll feed you like I promised._

Just then, Marthe comes up and interrupts her melancholy. "Annie! Glad you could make it after all. These are my parents." She gestures at the couple standing beside her. "This is Annie. We used to have all our study groups at her house. She made the best snacks." Marthe gestures toward the table. "Annie brought the fruit tart over there, and she actually made it. Not like me and my bakery cookies."

It's kind of nice when your friends think they came to your place because you can cook, not because you were scared to go to theirs.

"Hello, Marthe's parents." Annie juggles her plate awkwardly and shakes their hands. "Marthe helped me with math, and I promise I only made a few puns on her name when she did."

They all laugh, and wander away from the table, talking and chatting about their plans.

Only after the event, outside in the parking lot, does glancing up at the now dark sky remind Annie. The sharp stab of pain and loss runs through her again. Someone behind her bumps into her when she comes to an abrupt stop.

Annie tries to get moving again, but she can't. She looks around urgently, almost freaking out. "Wait, which direction is west?"

Cashmere knows, of course, and she understands at once. They stand together on the sidewalk, letting the crowd part around them as they hold a silent vigil, just the two of them. Cashmere wraps her arms around Annie from behind.

 _I'm sorry, Finnick. I don't mean to forget you. It's just that so much keeps happening. You must be pretty busy yourself._

She hopes he's busy, because the alternative is worse.

 _You wouldn't believe where I am tonight. I'm going to try to find us a house, you should come see. It'd be pretty crowded if you showed up now, I guess. But we'll make room. Just come when you can._

* * *

Annie hesitates for a long time, but she ends up taking an electrician job that pays well but doesn't allow Cashmere to accompany her.

"I think I can do it. If you drive me there and pick me up in the evenings. And then you can go to therapy during the day, now that we don't have to ask Raych and Nessa for the money."

Cashmere takes a lot of persuading, and it's not until Annie promises to go with her that she agrees to give it a try.

She almost gives up in the first few minutes, when Morris, her new therapist, refuses—kindly, politely, but firmly—to let Annie field the questions for her. They need to build a rapport and learn to communicate with each other, he says. Annie's not happy with it, but she subsides, watching suspiciously beside Cashmere.

Like Jenn did with Annie, Morris encourages Cashmere to ask any questions she has at any time.

Cashmere braces herself to spend the entirety of every session picking one thing she doesn't understand and asking about it, and struggling to make up for the rest. Maybe just having Annie here will mean Annie will explain things when they get home. If she doesn't get tired of it.

The first question comes. "Can you tell me what you're feeling right now?"

At least it's a familiar one. "I'm happy to be here and looking forward to working together."

His face is smiling and nodding, and his body language is relaxed. She must have gotten this one right.

"That's great."

Then therapy takes a very strange turn. Morris doesn't ask any more questions, like Jenn did, but he starts walking her through exercises with her body right away. Not breathing exercises, but moving different parts of her body. Fingers, toes, shoulders, elbows.

Puzzled, but relieved that this is something she can do, Cashmere obeys all the instructions. Maybe he doesn't know that she can already do this, maybe this is the beginner lesson and he'll be pleased when she can complete it.

It stays easy, though. So easy she wonders what's going on. Maybe he can tell she's not good at therapy, maybe he's taking it slow on her. She can answer these questions, where she can feel her pulse, how fast it's going, how warm or cold or fast the air currents on her skin are.

Cashmere's happy and relieved when the session draws to a close, but Annie's not. She stays put when Cashmere gets to her feet. "Am I allowed to ask a question?"

Morris gives her a polite smile that Cashmere can read before he even speaks. The answer is no.

"I appreciate how invested you are in your partner's well-being. In fact, a support system at home is one of the most important things someone in therapy can have. But it's better if our sessions proceed at Cashmere's pace. When she's ready to ask something, that's when the right time to ask will be."

Annie's tense in the car, as always, and Cashmere's running over the last session reviewing her performance for anything she can improve next time, so the way home is silent.

But as soon as they're settled back in their room, Cashmere presses up close to her. "You don't have to come next time," she promises. "If it's going to be like this, I don't mind going alone. I can do this, it's like the academy."

"And he wouldn't explain what he was doing!" Annie bursts out. "That's what worries me. I don't want this be anything like the academy."

Cashmere subsides unhappily. She tried so hard to make this work. "Maybe he wanted me to ask, there at the end?" she finally speculates. "I can ask next time, if you think I should. I want to get this right."

"All right," Annie says. "We'll go one more time. And if he's willing to explain when you ask, then maybe it will help and you should keep going. But if he doesn't, then I don't think he's someone who should be telling you what to do."

Cashmere likes having someone to tell her what to do, though. Enough that, when it continues during the second session, Cashmere starts thinking about maybe just letting Annie stay home. It's not like Annie wants to come anyway, she justifies to herself.

Maybe she can get better if she's got someone to tell her how. She may not understand it, but she went through an entire academy program without understanding anything, and that was successful.

This time, Morris has her building on what she did last time, paying attention to sensations and involuntary motions from her body, but now while reliving different memories. He starts her with a memory of feeling happy and safe, and she picks Annie's wedding to Finnick.

Then he asks for a memory where she felt terrified, like the ground was dropping from below her feet.

She doesn't want to think about Gloss, so instead she relives sitting across from President Snow learning how she let her district down with her wantonness and what the new expectations would be.

Whenever she starts to go completely blank and lose track of her body, Morris asks her where her shoulders are or how fast or slow she's breathing, or instructs her to move her toes and pay attention to the sensation of her shoes pressing back.

It's surprisingly hard to do both at the same time, relive a memory and pay attention to her body, but with him to guide her, she keeps at it until the session is drawing to a close. When he asks her if she has any questions before they end for the day, Cashmere feels Annie's elbow nudge surreptitiously against her side.

She knows what she's supposed to ask, but she also knows there's such a thing as too many questions, especially when you just met someone, and she doesn't want to use up her whole allowance before she knows the answer to the question that's really haunting her.

"Did I do it right?" Cashmere blurts before she can change her mind, and then holds her breath.

"It's not really the kind of thing you can get right or wrong," Morris says, still smiling. "It's like a medical treatment. Either it helps you or it doesn't."

Annie's elbow again.

Cashmere's relieved smile drops. Should she ask? She doesn't want to risk ruining this, but she doesn't want to disappoint Annie either.

Then she remembers that Annie's smarter than she is, and she'll know if Morris's answer means they should or shouldn't keep coming. That decides her.

"Do you...think it's going to help?" she ventures. That's the best she can do. She can't outright ask what he's doing, that'd feel too much like she's challenging him.

"So far it's looking good." Morris glances at the clock. "We have a few minutes left. Are you wondering how it works?"

Cashmere studies him closely to figure out what the right answer is. Then she decides it doesn't matter, because it's Annie she's going home with and she knows the answer Annie wants. Cashmere nods, hoping it makes her look smart and curious and not stupid or defiant.

"I'm glad you asked. I think we can all agree that one of the reasons you come to therapy is to change what you're feeling, yes?"

Tentatively, she nods.

"A bit hard to change what you're feeling if you've no idea what you're feeling in the first place. Our bodies are here to give us clues, so I'm trying to help you read those clues."

Chewing this one over, Cashmere glances over at Annie, not so much for answers as to check that everything's still all right. Does she have leeway for a third question, or is this too much and she should count her blessings?

No, she can't, this one feels too much like a challenge. Cashmere snaps her mouth shut. That's good enough for today.

"I can see you have a difficult time asking questions."

Cashmere gives a tiny nod. It never takes long before anyone figures out how stupid she is. Other people have the secret to asking good questions; a secret she somehow missed out on.

He smiles at Annie. "How about we ask Miss Annie here to help us out?"

"Me?" Annie looks up, startled.

"Sure." Morris pulls an empty jar off a shelf on a bookcase of odds and ends. "Do you find it easier to ask questions at home?" he asks Cashmere.

She doesn't know what the right answer is, but she can't think of a reason to lie, and he seems to already know, so she only nods.

"That's what I thought. How's this, then?" He passes Cashmere the jar, and a small, lumpy cloth bag with a drawstring pulled tight. "Inside the bag are a bunch of beads. Every time you ask a question at home during the week, you can put in one bead. Every time you ask a question here, two beads. When the jar fills up, Annie does something special for you. The two of you decide what."

"I could bake you a treat," Annie offers.

"Like when you finished a class?" This is kind of like taking a class, Cashmere realizes.

"Exactly!" Annie looks delighted, but this is all moving too fast for Cashmere. She needs time to think, to process all this. Her head is spinning.

"I think we have time for two beads today," Morris suggests, looking pleased. Annie's already dropping some in for the questions Cashmere asked earlier.

Well, Finnick did say the rules were different everywhere. Cashmere heaves a deep breath, and goes for it.

"You said you were trying to help me figure out what I'm feeling. And that makes sense," she assures him. "What if I don't feel anything, though? I know everyone else does, all the time," she adds quickly. "But I've never been like other people. I think something is broken, or missing, inside."

Morris answers with a question. "Have you thought about what it would be like to feel more? Like other people? Would it make life easier, harder, what do you think?"

"I always thought it would be easier. I'd be able to answer questions and talk to people about everyday things, without feeling stupid, and different, and empty."

"I'm glad to hear that. It just so happens this technique helps when you're feeling numb too. If you want to keep it up, I think you can look forward to more feelings in the future."

For the first time, Cashmere thinks that maybe, if this isn't too good to be true, she might learn to be a normal person. She gives him a smile. "I'd like to keep it up."

* * *

Annie never in her wildest dreams imagined she'd get herself escorted out of the library, but for as long as she lives, she'll never regret it.

"Cashmere! Cashmere!"

Cashmere comes running from the table where she's been having her reading lessons. "Annie! What's wrong-"

Sobbing with joy, Annie holds up the newspaper she's been reading. She even ignores the librarian who comes over to ask her to please be considerate of the other patrons. "No, you don't understand, we won the war!"

"We won?!"

Cashmere bends over where Annie's showing her the headline. "The rebels have declared victory. The Capitol has no more power!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to lower your voice or step outside-"

"Do they mention anyone by name?" Cashmere asks. She tries to read the article over Annie's shoulder, but it's still slow going for her.

Just as Annie's shaking her head, the librarian firmly seizes the newspaper. "If you cannot be quiet, I'm going to-"

Annie tries to snatch it back. "I just want to take it home, just the one page, just for one day-"

"No! It does not leave this building." Another librarian comes striding over to assist. "But you're going to have to-"

"You don't understand! We won the war!" But she and Cashmere let the librarians escort them to the parking lot, Annie too far gone to even be embarrassed, Cashmere glancing worriedly behind her.

They huddle in the back seat of the car together, laughing and crying. "All it said is that the rebels declared victory. It was just a short blurb. The old leadership's been overthrown. I guess that means Snow."

"What was the date?" Cashmere asks. "How long ago was that?"

"Oh, I don't even know if it said," Annie says. She half makes to get out of the car and go back inside, but then she remembers. "I was too busy trying to get as much as I could about the people. But there weren't any names, not any. But that's enough for now. Let's go home and celebrate!"

With her burst of excitement-fueled energy worn off, Annie plans a menu at home to send with Cashmere to the store.

"Are there exceptions to the no alcohol rule, or-"

Nessa shakes her head. "No exceptions. But you can celebrate with anything else you like, dear."

"Okay, who likes hot chocolate?"

Everyone chimes in on that one. "Hot chocolate it is!" Annie beams, and makes notes. "I'll make a meatloaf, with biscuits, and potatoes, and squash."

"And dessert, surely," Raych adds.

Annie laughs. "You know me too well. I wish I could make a lemon meringue pie, but you don't have lemons here. I'll make a strawberry rhubarb pie."

"It'll be just as good," Cashmere promises.

And it is. Annie eats hers with gusto, talking the whole time. By the time she gets to the pie, she's gone from disbelief to joy to speculation. "I wish there were more details. They won, I think President Snow is dead, they'll be setting up a less oppressive government. That's all."

"That's quite a lot," Raych says, "for a country we never heard much about."

"But I have family! And I knew people. Like I knew some of the leaders in Four. And I've heard of a lot more. I can't stop wondering." The curiosity is eating her from the inside out, but she knows it's going to be hard to get answers without going there. And she can't do that, not yet. Just the thought makes her sick.

Then she looks at Cashmere, in shame. She knows where _her_ family is.

But Cashmere's only got one family on her mind. Later, when they're climbing under the covers, and Annie's preparing to find out how she feels, Cashmere surprises her with a question out of the blue.

"Does Finnick like hot chocolate?"

"When he lets himself drink it," Annie answers. "Why?"

"We're going to make him hot chocolate when he comes back, right? And he can drink it in bed? Like you promised at your wedding?"

"Of course we are." Annie hugs her. She squeezes her eyes shut and pretends Finnick's there, safe between them. "And he can sleep as much as he wants. In the middle. Until he's all caught up."

She lets herself fall asleep imagining recipes to make him. It's better than imagining where he might be, or not be, right now.

* * *

Cashmere shakes her head. "No, he's much taller than General Heavensbee."

"Okay," Annie says, still staring hard at the grainy newspaper photo and trying to make the half-visible figure behind Plutarch be Finnick. "I never saw Heavensbee in person."

Not a word, not a picture.

Annie lets the paper fall heavily into her lap. "I don't know, Cashmere. I don't know where else to look."

"Just because he's not turning up in any of the media coverage doesn't mean he's dead," Cashmere insists. "Nobody even cares about the war here. The date on this article is three months ago."

"That's my point. The war ended four months ago, and he still hasn't even sent word. Nessa said Ambassador Frey said General Heavensbee said the last time anyone saw him, he was badly, maybe fatally, injured. That he made it out alive, but no one was sure how much longer he lasted. And that was a long time before the war ended. Now no one's seen him in more than a year, and he hasn't sent word? I don't want to give up, but it doesn't look good."

Cashmere folds her arms across her chest. "Maybe he's on his way here. Nessa said there's lots of immigrants coming, that east Panem is hurting for food, but it's safer to travel now that the war's over. If he was injured, it could take him months to get here over land and by boat."

"Maybe," Annie says. It's a possibility, she just doesn't think it's the most likely one. "How long do you want to wait?"

"Do you even want him to come back?" Cashmere challenges.

"I do! I want him to be okay and to come home. I just don't think he'd want us to wait around forever—in fact, I know he wouldn't."

"I don't want him to feel like we forgot about him."

Annie feels it too: the guilt of having abundant food, a comfortable place to live, a steady job, and most of all, the absence of fear. Even if she's still scared to leave the house, she knows she doesn't have to be afraid of Cashmere being captured, shot, tortured, or raped every time she steps outside. Not like Finnick, who could be lying in a mass grave somewhere.

"But he won't," Annie promises. "Remember when we got married and we all agreed you were part of the marriage even if no one else recognized it? It'll be the same if he shows up again. We'll figure out who wants to be legally married to who. Maybe you and Finnick can have a turn." Annie smiles at Cashmere, whose brow furrows while she thinks this over.

"No forgetting?"

"Never. How long do you want to wait?"

Cashmere says, "I think we should wait at least a year."

"A year from now? Or the end of the war, or-"

"The end of the war," Cashmere says reluctantly. "If we don't have any news by then, then he's not coming."

* * *

"We can afford to buy a whole house?" Cashmere asks, astonished. "Already?"

"Well, no," Annie explains, a little discomfited. "We can afford to convince someone who can buy a house to let us live there and pay rent while we slowly give them money until we own it. Plus, the house won't be as nice and centrally located as this apartment. But it'll be ours, and we can start a family if we want. When we're ready," she adds. "Maybe not right away. But we can start planning for it. If that's still what you want. I don't want to pressure you into anything."

Cashmere's looking down at the carpet. "I feel bad about how much I want it. I always fantasized about meeting someone and being allowed to settle down. And having kids...I'm still afraid of screwing it up, but if you think we can do it together, and you say I can hug them and talk to them as much as they want and it won't ruin them, then I always wanted to do that, but I wasn't allowed."

"Why is my idea of a normal life always something you and Finnick were never allowed? Let's do it."

They agree that Cashmere will shop around for houses while Annie's at work, and report back in the evenings.

But Cashmere's first few reports of her viewings are lackluster, until finally one day she looks like she's about to cry. In a flash, Annie crosses the living room and puts her arm around her. "Come on."

Once they're in the bedroom with the door safely closed, Annie faces her. "What's wrong, honey?"

"I can't!" Cashmere is the picture of misery. "I'm sorry I'm letting you down again, but I'm not smart enough for this. I can't go out with real estate agents and look at houses and figure out what's the right house for us. I can ask the questions you gave me, but I don't understand the answer—I mean, I understand the words, but not whether it's good or bad or suspicious, and I don't know how to give the right response or make a decision or ask followup questions, and we're going to end up living in a terrible house and it'll be all my fault!"

"No, no, no, it's not your fault!" Annie immediately quells her disappointment and tells herself that reassuring Cashmere is the most important thing. "It's not fair to expect you to go look at houses and read my mind and figure out what I feel up to renovating and commit me to it. I-" Annie takes a few deep breaths and fights off the mounting fear. "I don't know why I thought it was reasonable. I guess I didn't, I was just afraid that I'd pick the first house I saw so I never have to go out again."

"I'm sorry I can't think of questions." Cashmere hangs her head.

"I'm sorry I have such a hard time going outside." Annie takes her hand. "But we'll go together. I—maybe I'll talk to Jenn first."

Annie quickly realizes how hard it is to pin down exactly how much work she's willing and able to take on, and she can't believe she expected Cashmere to decide for her. Every time she steps into a house, she has to fight off the impulse to say that it's way nicer than almost anywhere she's ever lived and she'll take it. She has a full-time job that means she'll have to keep her repairs to the evenings and weekends. She'd like to get started on kids sooner rather than later, and she wants them growing up comfortable. She doesn't want them to have her childhood.

But she can't let herself start holding her houses up to the standard of Raych and Nessa's place either, because she just started her new job, and no one will give her that kind of loan yet.

This guest house, for instance, is nice enough to be enticing, despite the black and white striped wallpaper to go with the black and white tiles. Annie immediately envisions ripping it off and applying a few buckets of paint. But it's in a very nice neighborhood, and it's just a little too expensive.

Annie makes a face when she talks it over with Cashmere. "It's nice. And I suppose we could afford it, especially since we wouldn't have to make repairs. But that's a lot of money, for us, and I don't know if I'm comfortable with that much debt."

Cashmere's giving her a bright, blank smile like she's hoping that isn't a question. Annie sighs.

"All right, I know what the right answer is. I was just tempted. Let's keep looking, then."

After looking at houses they can afford in neighborhoods without good schools, and not finding anything they can afford in better areas, Annie suggests looking further away from the city. "If you don't mind driving me all the way to work?" she says to Cashmere.

"Of course not!"

Most are still too costly, and Annie keeps having to shake her head. People like living in nice houses with yards outside the city center, and the houses are bigger for the same price but not necessarily cheaper.

She's ready to despair of finding anything that will allow her to provide the kind of life she wants for Cashmere and their kids, when they find themselves in front of a dump with potential.

Annie's immediately heartened by the sight of the yard. The weeds are almost as tall as she is, and they're clinging to the porch. When they step onto the porch, she sees a sodden pile of leaves in the corner and suspects rotting wood underneath.

The paint is peeling inside and out. Annie nods to herself as she goes through and inspects all the broken window screens and windows that won't open and tries not to get excited, because this house is actually in their price range. "When was it last roofed?" The best place they've found so far she had to turn away from regretfully, because honesty forced her to admit she's not up to a total roofing job.

"Three years ago."

She'll take a look at it later, but for now, that sounds good.

On and on, the inspection goes. Annie holds her breath, but every flaw is either something she can salvage, or something she can live with. And they can afford it.

"Which bedroom would you want?" Annie's trying not to get excited, but she's half bouncing on her toes.

"Oh." Cashmere gives her a startled look, accompanied by a dread that Annie's come to know all too well.

"No, sweetie, I don't mean we have separate rooms," Annie reassures her. "I mean, which one do you want us to have, and the kids can share the other one."

"Oh!" Brightening, Cashmere goes from one to the other. "They're both so nice."

Annie laughs. "You always say that. Hm. I like the one that doesn't overlook the front yard, it feels less exposed, but then it's bigger and I think we should let the kids have the bigger room."

"So are you planning on taking it?" the real estate agent asks, smiling.

"Let me just talk to my wife," Annie asks. She puts her hand on Cashmere's elbow, and they step outside into the backyard for a moment of privacy.

"Annie, we're not married!" Cashmere breathes urgently, the moment they're alone. "Not that I don't want to be, but I'm not trying to steal you."

Annie sets her jaw. "You're family, and we got married years ago. You did my hair, and Rudder gave me chocolate, and Finnick agreed. We're married in my head as long as we all three want to be."

Cashmere looks reassured. "As long as everyone's happy...I really like it when you say 'wife'."

"I thought you would." Annie's smile is huge. She gives Cashmere a kiss, and then they're both smiling. "Now what about the house, what do you think?" She realizes they're standing next to a gate that's hanging off one hinge. "Just a sec." Annie double-checks the checklist in her hands to make sure she didn't forget this. Yes, there it is. Number seventeen. "Sorry, go on."

"I can help with the yard," Cashmere offers. "I can't make it as fancy as some of the other yards we've seen, but I can pull up weeds and keep them from taking over like this again."

"Can you help make the house comfortable? Pick out colors and suggest things you'd like?"

Cashmere looks utterly caught off guard. "I can...try? But if you want help with anything around the house, I can definitely lift and carry and do anything you tell me to, even if I don't know how to fix it myself."

"I've been counting on that. Should we put in an offer, then?"

"I just want to live with you, Annie."

"I know." Annie puts her head against Cashmere's shoulder in what could be their new yard. "And I want to raise a family with you. Here."

And so it's decided.

Raych and Nessa celebrate with them. "We promised you all the cookware which we don't even know what it's called but you've been cooking delicious things with it," says Nessa, showing them the pile of boxes waiting in the corner of the kitchen. "All yours, we'll load it up in the car and drive it over."

Annie's face flushes hot and she covers her mouth with her hands in awe and gratitude. "Thank you so much, both of you!"

"We'll be sorry to see you go, but don't be strangers." Nessa gives them both a big hug.

"Come meet our next student," Raych offers, adding her own hug.

"I don't think me or Cashmere have words for how much you've done for us. Come over all the time, let me keep cooking for you. I'll cook for your student too, make welcome brownies."

"That sounds delightful."

Their first night in their new home is scary and overwhelming and the happiest night of Annie's life. "I'm building us a bed," she promises, as they lie side by side. "No more mattresses on the floor! What color do you want the bedstead?"

Cashmere looks around. They haven't turned off the light yet, because they're too busy admiring their new bedroom. It may be rundown, but it's theirs.

"I started thinking about it, since you said you wanted me to help with that. I was wondering-" She stops. "Is that okay? It's your room too."

"Yes! It's our room, let's make it work for both of us."

"Well, I was wondering if we could get a pink blanket and pink curtains? Nothing too bright, a very pale pink maybe? And paint the walls yellow? I hadn't really thought about the bedstead."

Annie looks around with her, imagining it and nodding. "You want a princess room?" she teases affectionately.

"Only if you want-"

"Oh, I'd love a princess room with you. How about white? That looks nice with yellow and light pink. A white bed and a white dresser?"

Cashmere nods. "And maybe a covering for the light?" She shields her eyes as she looks up.

"Oh, definitely. A bare bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling is a bit much. Already on the list. You weren't surrounded by pink all the time then in District One and the Capitol, then? Because that's what I would-" Annie stops herself mid-word. _Do if I were dressing you up._ "Think," she finishes lamely.

"Oh, no. They wanted me to be a sex goddess," Cashmere explains. "Red, black, gold, that sort of thing. And pastels weren't really in anyway. Everyone wore bright colors. They put me in blue a lot to bring out my eyes."

"Pink it is, then. You'll be my princess. And you can wear whatever colors you want."

Annie builds them a bedstead, and they buy a secondhand dresser and paint it white. Cashmere picks out fabric at the store while Annie's at home painting, and Annie helps her cut and sew the curtains. "If you decide you like this sort of thing more than I do, we can save up for a sewing machine someday. For now you can just sew on loops, that's faster. And then come help me with the porch, it's falling apart!"

* * *

Cooking in their new home fast becomes the best part of Annie's day. Pots bubbling, warm smells, Cashmere smiling...Annie slowly starts to feel like she's got some control over her life. The power to make it better, for her and the people she cares about.

She still has her struggles, still has to bring them to Jenn for help, but slowly she starts to feel like a storm has stopped raging, leaving her to clean up the flood damage and rebuild.

"How's therapy going?" Annie asks Cashmere, one lazy morning after a long but rewarding week, enjoying sticky homemade honey buns and the view out the kitchen window to their new backyard.

"These are really good, Annie." She always says that. But she always eats like it's true, and to be honest, Annie usually thinks it is. "I don't know. It's a little strange, trying to see everything through different eyes. But I would never have thought of any of this myself."

"You're learning things that help?"

Cashmere nods. "Like he says the reason I feel numb all the time is that I never got used to paying any attention to my body or reading its signals, because what I felt never mattered. I learned to read other people's body language, because my whole life depended on how the adults felt about me."

That makes sense. Annie wonders how she escaped that herself, always aware of her family's resentment over feeding the orphan. Maybe some part of her knew if they were going to kick her out onto the streets, they would have done it by now. So even if she felt guilty, she had that little bit of security. "I see. So that's why he had to start you on learning to read your own body."

"I always thought I was good at that! But I guess it was just athletics, because any time I try to pay attention to my emotions, I start to panic. I feel like I'm going to let everyone down. He's right: I can't read myself and someone else at the same time. If you don't keep track of whether you're pleasing everyone else, you get kicked out of the academy."

"Is it easier being alone, then?" Now Annie feels extra bad about Cashmere following her around, trying to read her and please her all day long.

"I hate being alone!" Cashmere explains. "Then I don't know how anyone feels about me, and it all feels like failure. I think maybe if I had kids to think about, take care of, it would be easier."

"You want to stay home with the kids full time? At least at first?"

"Am I supposed to?" Cashmere looks nervous. "All I knew about was that I was supposed to make sure the kids are taken care of."

"There's no 'supposed to' about it. You can stay home with them if that's what you choose."

"We don't need the money?"

Annie shakes her head. "Not if we're careful. You worked hard for many years, did everything you were told and never even had any choices—if taking care of children is what would make you happy, it'll make me happy. It's hard work too, even if you don't get paid. I just don't want you to feel trapped."

"Maybe if I had the skills and I knew what kind of job I wanted? Like you being really close to being an electrician and only needing a year of classes? I just don't have any ideas—but I'm willing to do anything you need me to!"

"I just need you to be family. You'll stay home, then, and let me know if you change your mind."

Later that night, lying with her head on Annie's lap, smiling under the petting, Cashmere confesses, "I kind of wish I'd learned these things, you know, reading and math. Or assembling things, like you do. But that's a lot of years I missed, and I feel like I'm going to have a full-time job learning the right way to raise kids. You think you can help them with their homework?"

"Of course," says Annie. "We're a team. And here's an idea. You know how Raych started me on books for children? What if we bought books for the kids when they're still babies, and you read to them when they're lying in the crib. Then by the time they're old enough to read, you'll be at least a year ahead of them."

"Reading to the kids? When they're babies?"

"Sure. Even before they understand the words, they'll like the sound of your voice. And you'll get to practice reading. Start on baby books and move up. Before you know it, you'll be reading them bedtime stories."

"So I can take care of the kids and learn at the same time," Cashmere says thoughtfully. She stretches her arms up around Annie's waist. "Annie, you have the best ideas."

* * *

"It's been a year," Annie says into the silence one morning at breakfast.

Cashmere looks down at her bowl of porridge. "Has it? I suppose." Then she looks up quickly. "Annie, it's really, really not that I don't want to be married to you. I do! More than anything! I just don't want Finnick to be dead."

"Neither do I." Annie's throat closes up, but she forces herself to continue. "I just don't think we're ever going to know. I wanted to ask if you'd like to have some kind of ceremony, something we would do if we'd gotten news and needed to grieve."

She tries _war widow_ out in her mind, and doesn't feel anything except for a vague discomfort. She can't be a widow, not with Cashmere here.

Cashmere pushes her bowl away, not hungry any more. "Is there something you'd do in Four?"

"Well...if we had his ashes, I'm sure he'd want to be buried at sea. But we don't, and I don't even have anything that belonged to him—and I'm not giving up the coat. I was thinking of something along the lines of baking funeral cakes and telling stories. Crying. And then getting married like we would if we knew for sure."

"Could you carve something? And we could drop that into the sea? It's only a couple of hours away. Or I could go," Cashmere offers, "you don't have to come."

"I'd feel terrible sending you out to bury him at sea and staying home!" Annie protests. "I guess I could carve something with his name on it, you're right."

"Maybe a fish? So he can swim?"

Annie started this conversation as numb as could be expected, just wanting to get this behind them, but her chest is getting tighter by the minute. "I think he'd like that. Or-" Something occurs to her. "I promised him-"

Cashmere abandons her seat at the table to come around and hold Annie while she cries. When she was thinking of herself, she couldn't feel anything, but a riptide of grief seizes her when she imagines Finnick, alone in Panem. Forgotten beaten wounded torn festering erased. Crawling tired trying fighting fading lost. And no more.

"He deserved-" Annie chokes. "Okay. We'll go."

They hold his funeral, just the two of them, on the coast, because if Annie can go to class because she wants a better job, she can damn well do this one last thing for Finnick. _It's not like you'll ever have to do anything for him again_ , she tells herself angrily. Remembering gearing up to go visit Mags in the hospital, hating her brain for trying to wriggle out of it.

 _It's the wrong ocean,_ is her first thought as they get out of the car and move toward the sea. Stormy, empty, freezing cold. The beach is too rocky, and she can see some boats and ships in the distance, but not enough. _But they're all connected, aren't they? All the oceans?_

Annie puts her hand into her pocket. Caressing the little carving, she realizes that she has no idea where in the world it'll wash up.

And somehow, for the first time, she starts to feel better about this, even as the tears prick her eyes.

They've reached the water. Cashmere looks to her for guidance. Hand in hand, they start walking along the coast, searching for the right spot. At Annie's suggestion, they've come as the tide is going out.

With the water pooling around her feet, Annie finds a place where the waves want to tug her far out to the deep ocean, bring her home. _Someday_ , she tells them. _Not yet_.

She pulls the octopus out of her pocket, and holds it up where she and Cashmere can see.

She carved an anatomically incorrect smile on it, because if Cashmere wants to think of Finnick swimming, Annie wants to think of him laughing. After all, if anyone could find something to laugh about today, it would be him.

 _It's not the same octopus_ , she tells him. _But it's the one I promised you._

The cold wind whips at her streaming eyes.

Cashmere puts her hand over Annie's, holds onto this little piece of laughing wood that is and isn't Finnick.

Together, they toss it as far out as they can, and stand silently watching it bob, until at last it's forever out of sight.

"Why an octopus?" Cashmere finally asks, as they start back up the shore, still hand in hand.

"Oh, that's a funny story." Annie laughs a little, wiping her eyes. "Walk with me, and I'll tell you."


End file.
